


Albus Potter and the Hidden Necromancer

by Scribe34



Series: Reality is a lovely place, but I wouldn't wanna live there [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Frankie Augusta Longbottom (OC), Lin Wood (OC), Matthias Hale (OC), Maximilian Hale (OC), Meghan Finnegan (OC), Norah Alice Longbottom (OC), Rory Finnegan (OC), Sebastian Mycroft (OC), They're too young for ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:36:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 112,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe34/pseuds/Scribe34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An account of Albus Potter and his friends during their first year in Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hogwarts Express (Albus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus and Rose make some friends and visit with cousins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love canon. Don't you love canon?

 Albus watched his parents and aunt and uncle wave until the Hogwarts Express began to turn, and the view of their hands was lost to his sight. He glanced over at Rose, who smiled, then swallowed, then smiled again.

"See you later," said James, behind him. "I'm going to dump my stuff and then go explore. Don't sit in a compartment with any teacher, whatever you do. Dad did once, and some dementors nearly ate his soul. Bye!" He vanished into the crowd, which was beginning to disperse, chatting and dragging trunks along the corridors of the train.

"Should we find a compartment, then?" said Rose briskly. She had that look on her face that Albus knew all too well, the one where she was trying to make up for feeling nervous by acting just a little bit bossier than usual.

He raised one eyebrow at her; to say _I know what you're doing_ ; and she grimaced.

"Yeah, let's go find somewhere to sit," he said, grinning. Rose halfheartedly punched him in the shoulder. "I think Archibald doesn't like all of these people." His owl was rustling nervously in his cage.

"Poor Archie," said Rose unsympathetically. "Come on, I think I see an empty one down there." She began to drag her trunk along, saying, "Excuse me, please," in a loud, firm, polite voice. Albus quickly followed her, before Archibald could start squawking.

They opened the compartment door. "Oh, good," said Rose, kicking her trunk into the corner. "This thing is beginning to get really heavy."

"It's a really small trunk," said Albus dubiously.

"Oh, well you know that charm Mum did on her beaded bag before the war? She did a number on my trunk. I can put anything in here and it will fit. Let me show you." She opened the trunk and hopped in, sinking all the way down and vanishing from view.

"Rose!" shouted Albus, dropping Archie's cage on the floor.

Rose popped back out of the trunk. "I'm _fine_ , Al. I left a ladder in for when I have to go find something. You worry almost as bad as Mum." She rolled her eyes.

"Do not," said Albus at once. "Look, you scared Archie." He picked up the indignant owl and smoothed his feathers down. "Why didn't your parents get you an owl?"

"Everyone has an owl," said Rose. "I didn't like any of the ones at Eeylops. Maybe next year. Until then I can just use the school owls."

"You can borrow Archie sometimes," offered Albus.

Rose smiled. "Thanks." She closed her trunk and hefted it up onto the shelf. Albus followed suit, then sat down across from her. Archie hooted quietly, then settled down to sleep.

"So what house do you want to be in?" asked Rose.

Albus briefly considered, then said, "Dad said it was okay if I was in Slytherin, but I think I really want to be in Gryffindor. James says it's more fun there."

"That's what Dad says, too," said Rose. "But Mum says, and the way I see it, it doesn't matter what House you're in, as long as you don't disgrace your family. Look at Victoire and Dominique. They're both Ravenclaws. I think Ravenclaw would be an okay House to be in."

"But James and Roxanne and Fred are all in Gryffindor. We don't have any Hufflepuff family, or Slytherin," said Albus. "What if I was the first Slytherin in our family?"

"Honestly, I bet they would be more disappointed if you were a Hufflepuff," giggled Rose.

Albus smiled.

There was a knock at the compartment door, and a fair-haired girl with the most frightened face Albus had ever seen poked her head in. She was short and quite slender and she had big, hazel-brown eyes that reminded Albus of the baby deer he had seen out his bedroom window when he had woken up that morning.

"Sorry," she said softly, "but, um, do you know where Professor Longbottom's compartment is? He usually takes the train, but, um, I can't find him..." She trailed off, her face coloring from pale to pink.

"We know him, but we don't know where his compartment is, sorry," said Rose. "You can come in and sit with us, if you like. We have room."

The girl's face went from frightened to shocked. "Um, really? I don't want to intrude or anything, I just-" She swallowed, and fell suddenly silent.

"Please come in," said Albus with a smile. "I'm Al, and this is Rose. We're first-years." He stood up and helped the girl carry her trunk in.

"Oh," said the girl, her eyes going even wider than before. "Um, are you, um." Her sentence ended there.

"Our parents are famous," said Rose patiently. "His dad is Harry Potter and my parents are Ron and Hermione Weasley."

"I thought so," said the girl. "Um, I've heard of you." Her owl hooted softly as she set its cage down on the seat next to her.

"Well, everybody's heard of our parents," said Albus.

"No, um, I mean, I've heard of you. My dad writes your dad."

"Your dad?"

"Professor Longbottom," said the girl, and her face turned scarlet, and Albus realized who she resembled.

"Oh, you must be Norah!" exclaimed Rose.

Norah smiled.

"We've heard of you, too," said Albus. "Are you a first-year, too?"

Norah nodded.

"You have an older sister, right? Frankie? She's friends with our cousins Roxanne and Dominique," said Rose.

Norah nodded again, then suddenly and without warning burst into tears. Although burst was a bit of an exaggeration, thought Albus, watching Norah cry. It was more like she simply overflowed, like a full cup of water at the tap.

Rose acted at once. "Close the door," she ordered Albus, and she moved over to sit by Norah and offered her a package of tissues from nowhere. Albus suspected that Rose had tried her mother's trunk charm on the pocket of her jeans. He closed the compartment door and shut the blinds so that nobody could see in.

"Now, what's wrong?" said Rose kindly.

"I was going to sit with Frankie, but there was no room in her compartment," said Norah. Her voice was perfectly steady, with no inflection to indicate that she was crying. "And I couldn't find Dad, and I miss Mum, and I forgot my lunch at home and I think maybe also my trunk key."

"Well, that I can fix," said Albus. "And if I can't, I'll go find James or Fred." He knelt down next to Norah's trunk and pulled a bobby pin from his pocket.

"You're going to pick the lock?" said Rose dubiously.

"I pick James's lock all the time." Albus wiggled the bobby pin around in the lock and listened to Rose and Norah talk.

"Never mind about lunch," said Rose consolingly to Norah. "We have some money that our parents withdrew for us so that we can buy things every now and then. We were going to wait until the sweets trolley came round and then pick up a couple of things then. Do you like Every Flavor Beans or Chocolate Frogs better?"

"Beans, but you can't spend money on me, my dad would kill me."

"My dad owes your dad one," said Albus. "He says so, all the time."

A brief silence fell over the compartment, and then Norah said shyly, "Well, if you insist."

"Of course we insist," said Rose.

"Absolutely," agreed Albus. He wrenched the bobby pin to the right and it snapped in half, flying across the compartment.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Rose. "I'll go get James or Fred, whoever I find first, and you keep Norah company." She stood, opened the compartment door, and closed it behind her.

"What's life like at the Leaky Cauldron?" Albus asked Norah, retrieving the two halves of the broken bobby pin. "You live there, don't you?"

"Um, it's fun," said Norah. "Tom is getting really old, he's probably going to quit soon. You meet a lot of interesting people in the Cauldron."

"I bet you do. My dad said he met Voldemort in there his first year. Only it wasn't Voldemort, it was his teacher. But it was also Voldemort. The story's kind of weird."

"You say Voldemort like it's nothing," said Norah, her eyes still wide.

"It doesn't really mean anything anymore," said Albus. "He's dead and gone. He's not coming back this time."

"I know," said Norah. "But some people think he could."

Albus looked up at her. Her face was fearful and wide-eyed as ever it was.

"Do you believe that?"

"No," said Norah. "Not Voldemort... personally. Not the real Voldemort. But there are people out there who think he had the right idea. That's what Dad says."

"I guess so," said Albus. He stopped wiggling the bobby pin halves around in the lock and slumped over Norah's trunk, defeated. "So what kind of wand do you have?"

Suddenly her whole face brightened, and she said cheerily, "Marblewood and dragon heartstring. You?"

"Rowan and phoenix feather," said Albus. "What's marblewood?"

Norah smiled, and when she did her whole face relaxed. "It's a rare wood from Suriname. Ollivander only had a few marblewood wands before the Muggles decided that it was too rare to be used for anything and made it illegal to be chopped down. The marblewood bowtruckles had to make homes in other kinds of trees, because their trees weren't being used. This wand's been waiting for me for about fifty years." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand, offering it to him to look closer. Albus looked without touching. The wood was tiger-striped with dark and pale brown, swirling to indeed create the effect of marble.

"That's really pretty."

"Rowan is a pretty wood too," said Norah. "It's a lovely reddish color."

"You know a lot about plants."

"My dad's a Herbology professor. It comes easy to me. But I'm really looking forward to Potions."

"Potions?" All of Albus's ideas of Potions were colored with his parents' dislike of the subject. "I really want to take a Transfiguration class. I hear Professor Creevey is a really good teacher, and I want to be an Animagus."

"I've heard that too, but I would never want to be an Animagus," said Norah. "It takes years and _years_."

Suddenly the door burst open, and Rose came in, followed by a tall boy with a head full of black curls, followed by James. "I found Fred and James," she said cheerfully, sitting down by Norah. "You can pick the lock, can't you, boys?"

"Better," said Fred, who lazily flicked his wand at the trunk. It popped open.

"I thought you weren't allowed to do magic away from school!" exclaimed Rose.

"This is school," said Fred, smirking, "and I'm older than all of you." He glanced over at Norah, who had turned silent and sober at the sight of two strangers. "Making friends, firsties?" James snickered, and Norah seemed to shrink.

"Don't be a bully, Fred Weasley, or I'll tell your mother on you," said Rose with great dignity. "This is Norah Longbottom. She's Professor Longbottom's daughter."

"My apologies," said Fred gallantly. "Professor Longbottom is my favorite teacher. He's pretty much everyone's favorite teacher. Sometimes he shows us the old Dumbledore's Army coin. If you're lucky, he does it on the first day of class." He swept Norah a graceful bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Norah. I'm Fred Weasley II and this midget is Al's older brother James."

James nodded. "I know your sis-"

"James!" warned Rose, but before she could stop him Norah began to overflow again, just as much silent crying as before. Her face was perfectly straight, but her tears flowed like two small rivers down her face.

"Sore subject," Albus murmured to James. James nodded, a little shamefully.

"Well, we'll, er, leave you be," said Fred, somewhat awkwardly. "Have a pleasant trip to the school."

"Don't get into Slytherin," said James, regaining a sense of poise once more as he backed out of the compartment and slid the door closed.

Albus sighed. It was back on his mind again, that little worry over Houses. He knew what Dad had said, that it didn't much matter, but he was still nervous.

"What house do you want to be in, Norah?" asked Rose.

"Frankie's in Gryffindor, and I don't know whether I want to be with her or not," said Norah, still crying without letting it transfer over to her face or her voice. "Not if it's always going to be like this."

"Why does talking about Frankie make you cry?" asked Albus.

"That's very polite," said Rose dryly.

"It's just a question, and better now than after we've cheered her up again," protested Albus, covering his head to shield himself from Rose's fist.

"Sometimes Frankie's really nice, and sometimes she just doesn't want me around," said Norah. "I'm younger and I get in the way, and I'm not as talented, and Frankie is sort of Dad's favorite because she made it into his House but she's still good at Herbology." She sniffed.

Rose seemed bemused, but Albus understood. He wasn't an oldest child either.

"That's rough," he told her.

"So just be your own person," said Rose. "Who cares about Frankie?"

"But sometimes she's really nice."

"So's James, and we don't always like the same things," said Albus. "He likes flying. A lot. I like it too, but not as much. I would rather listen to Dad tell stories about the war and about Grandfather James and Grandmother Lily and Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus. And James really likes animals, but I just like them because I want to be an Animagus someday, like Grandfather James and Uncle Sirius. What do you like that Frankie doesn't?"

"Potions," said Norah. "She hates it. She hates the professor. She said that everyone hates the professor. What if I hate the professor? Then I won't like Potions."

"Like it in spite of her," suggested Albus. "And you're good at Herbology too, you told me so."

"Not as good as Frankie," said Norah doubtfully. "She's really, really good. And she sees Dad more often because she's at school with him all year. I only see him on the weekends when he comes home."

"Well, now you get to see him more often," said Rose comfortingly.

"I guess so. And I can always run home and see Mum every now and then, when Dad goes." Norah sniffed and swiped her sleeve across her eyes. The tears were drying up as suddenly as they had come. Albus wanted to ask if she knew she cried strangely but decided it would be rude.

There was a knock at the compartment door, and a smiling woman popped her head in. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she said cheerily.

"Snacks on us," said Albus to Norah. "Yes, we'll take- let's see- three of everything, please."

"That's a lot," said Rose, wrinkling her nose at him.

Albus shrugged. "Save it for later in your trunk."

Soon three generous piles of sweets filled the seats next to them. Rose was reading the Chocolate Frog cards she had collected from her haul and adding them to the case that housed the rest of her collection. Albus was sampling Every Flavor Beans and Norah, though a little reluctantly, had given in and was eating Fizzing Whizbees.

"Hey, look, there's one of your dad again," Rose said to Albus, tossing him a Chocolate Frog card. Albus snagged it just before it hit the floor and read it over. He didn't collect Chocolate Frog cards with the acuity that Rose and most of his other cousins did, but he liked collecting his father's card whenever it came up. He had forty-three of his father's card, twenty-four of Uncle Ron, and twenty-one of Aunt Hermione. James had a huge collection, and Lily was starting hers. Albus looked at the picture of his father, smiling sheepishly out of the frame, flattening his messy hair over the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

"Can I see?" asked Norah.

Albus handed her the card. "Keep it, I've got about fifty of Dad."

Norah studied the card, then read the label aloud. "Harry James Potter, born July 31, 1980, still living. Harry Potter is the only known survivor of the Avada Kedavra curse. He was orphaned by the Dark Wizard Voldemort at the age of one. On 2 May 1998, at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, he defeated Voldemort, ending the Wizarding War and the Battle of Hogwarts. Potter currently resides in Godric's Hollow, near to the home where his parents were martyred."

Albus remembered the ruined cottage, with the inscriptions on the sign, and the memorial for Grandfather James and Grandmother Lily in the middle of the village. They lived just on the other side of the village. It was only about forty minutes car ride from the Burrow and about half an hour to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's house.

Norah gave him the card. "Your dad's a hero," she said solemnly.

Albus nodded. "Yeah, he is. But he doesn't like a big deal made out of it. He says it makes him feel self-conscious."

He looked at Rose, but then in the direction she was staring, which was at the door.

A tall boy with a pale face under white-blond hair stood there, carrying an owl cage and pulling a trunk. He wore expensive clothes and an expression of total neutrality. He was a little further away from the door, not looking at them, just staring up the compartment hallway.

"Scorpius Malfoy," said Rose softly. "Dad said not to be too friendly with him."

"Uncle Ron was joking," said Albus.

"My dad said that Draco Malfoy was unkind to him in school," whispered Norah.

Albus stood up. "Well, he isn't his dad, is he," he said firmly, and walked to the doorway.

Scorpius looked at him as he approached. His eyes were clear, light grey, devoid of emotion.

"We're halfway to Hogwarts," said Albus. "Why aren't you settled in a compartment?"

Scorpius cleared his throat, then said, "Nobody actually wants me to sit with them." He suddenly smiled, not a nice smile so much as a sarcastic one. "I'm the son of a traitor."

Albus nodded. "Come on in," he said. "We have room." He heard Rose mumble something under her breath, but he also heard both girls shifting trunks and piles of food.

Scorpius said evenly, "You're Potter's son."

"Yes, I am," said Albus, equally evenly. "If that makes you uncomfortable, then you don't have to sit with us. I just thought it would be better than standing in the corridor the whole time."

"Thank you, I accept," said Scorpius, and in a quick, graceful movement moved towards the door. Albus took the owl cage and set it down by Archibald and Norah's owl, Philo. Scorpius shoved his trunk under the seat and sat down next to Albus with perfect posture and a still blank face.

"This is my friend Norah Longbottom, and my cousin Rose Weasley," said Albus, feeling it was the proper thing to do. They all shook hands, Norah somewhat timidly and Rose rather aggressively.

"I'm Scorpius," said Scorpius, something like a real smile twitching faintly at the corner of his mouth. "But I'm sure you already know that."

There was a pregnant pause, and then Rose said breezily, "So what House do you want to be in, Scorpius?"

"My father wants me in Slytherin, but I'm open to persuasion," replied Scorpius, that ghost of a smile still floating around the corner of his mouth. "I really have no preference, except that I know that being a Slytherin has its perks."

"What perks?" said Rose at once.

"We don't have to go upstairs at night to go to bed when we're already tired. We go downstairs, which is much easier than going up."

"Stairs, schmairs," said Rose. Albus shot her a look. She was clearly in an argumentative mood. "Isn't the Slytherin common room sort of damp? I bet the mold is terrible down there."

"And how would you know?" inquired Scorpius politely.

"Our dads did some mucking about with Polyjuice Potion their second year," said Albus, before Rose could retort. "I don't know if they ever told your dad about it. Probably not. It actually saved their life once."

"What, Polyjuice Potion?"

"No, knowing what the Slytherin common room looked like. What other perks are there?"

"It's closer to the Great Hall. First dibs on the eats," said Scorpius. "Also, there's an advantage to going in as one of the most hated people in the school."

"And what's that?" said Rose.

Scorpius looked her square in the eyes, and Albus could see something simmering in them, something neither friendly nor unfriendly. "It doesn't get any worse than it already is."

There was another awkward pause, and then Rose said, "Well, I'm really all right with Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. It doesn't much matter to me. How about you, Norah?"

Norah shrugged.

"You're quiet," observed Scorpius.

"Is there something wrong with that?" said Rose defensively.

"No," said Scorpius. "It was an observation. I have nothing against her, or you for that matter."

"You'd think you would, seeing how our parents disliked each other a lot," said Albus.

Scorpius turned to look at him, and Albus grinned.

Slowly, Scorpius smiled back. "I've learned that defying expectations, while not always rewarding, is often educational," he said dryly. "I've decided that I will take whatever friends I can get and be grateful. I'm not even likely to be popular in my own house."

"You say that like you're absolutely sure of Slytherin," ventured Norah.

He shrugged. "Honestly, I am one already. That doesn't mean I'm a bully. I'm actually quite nice. My mother says so."

Albus and Norah snickered, and even Rose was surprised into a smile.

Albus glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to set. "We better put on our robes," he said, digging in his pocket for his trunk key.

Rose, Norah, and Scorpius followed suit. Norah opened her trunk and shamefacedly showed them her trunk key, which had been locked inside. Rose climbed down into her trunk, to the amazement of Norah and the raised eyebrows of Scorpius, and emerged fully prepared, robes in place, shoes shined, and hair neatly brushed.

Albus pulled on his robes and stuck his wand in the back of his jeans pocket. He caught Rose's eye, and she said in a low growl, " _Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, boy_!"

Albus laughed.

"Who said that?" asked Norah.

"Old Mad-Eye Moody, before he died," explained Albus. "He always warned people about putting wands in their jeans. Dad thought it was funny."

Scorpius lifted a mirror from the trunk, then pushed it gently into the air. It hovered in front of him, while he straightened his collar and smoothed his hair back. Rose snorted audibly. Scorpius ignored this and spun the mirror, offering it to everyone. Albus flattened his hair down over his forehead; it would stick up everywhere. He straightened his robes and rolled up the sleeves a little. Norah stuck her trunk key in her pocket, closed her trunk, and began to braid her hair quickly and with the skill of long practice. In moments she was done, with a quiet "Thanks" to Scorpius, who grasped the mirror and set it down in the trunk, then closed and locked it.

"Al, your shoe's untied," said Rose.

Albus bent to re-tie his trainers and remembered he was wearing James's old trainers, one of the few pairs that had survived more than six months with his brother. James had drawn a mark on the inside sole of the right foot, a symbol Dad had told them about since they were little: a line, enclosed in a circle, enclosed in a triangle; the sign of the Deathly Hallows. He remembered the Invisibility Cloak his father had let him and James play with when they were little, and he remembered that it was tucked into his trunk, hidden under other clothes. Dad had given it to him in confidence, saying that he could easily use others from the Auror Office if he needed them and that James had nicked the Marauder's Map, so therefore he, Albus, would inherit the Cloak.

He finished tying his shoelaces and stood. Rose sighed loudly. "Al, your hair never stays down."

Albus shrugged, then flattened his bangs over his forehead again. It often puffed up in the front when he was stressed. He closed his trunk and retrieved Archibald from the row of sleeping owls. Scorpius held his owl's cage on his lap.

"What's your owl's name?" asked Albus.

"Iphigenia," answered Scorpius. "She's a purebred eagle owl. Her mother belonged to my mother."

"Neat," said Albus. "Eagle owls are pretty rare, aren't they?"

Scorpius nodded. "There aren't a very great many in all of Britain. What's your owl's name?"

"Archibald," said Albus. "I've had him for a year now. He's pretty old, 'cause I bought him secondhand, and he's incredibly bad-tempered. He hates strangers." Archibald hooted loudly. "Shut it, you."

There was a firm rap at the door, and a tall blond girl poked her head in.

"Victoire!" said Rose delightedly, racing over to give her a hug.

Toire smiled. "Well, if it isn't Rose and Al! And I see you've made friends already. Are you all first-years?" Scorpius and Norah nodded. "Then I'll just remind you that you don't go with the older students, you follow Hagrid to the boats. All right?"

"Sure thing, Toire," said Albus, remembering James's bit of news before the train left. "Are you and Teddy getting married?"

Toire turned pink. "Well, I don't know. Maybe in a few years, but that's too far ahead to think about now." She smiled again. "See you at the feast!"

"That was rude," said Rose to Albus, as Toire moved to the next compartment.

"It was just a question, and James would have been much ruder," said Albus. "He would have said 'When are you getting married,' instead of 'Are you getting married.' I gave her the option of saying no." Rose merely rolled her eyes.

A voice, magically magnified, echoed through the entire train: "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

They all exchanged looks, and even Scorpius, who seemed quite unemotional, looked a little disturbed.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the train came to a halt. Albus glanced out the windows and saw the steam rolling away from the train as the whistle sounded.

"Well, time to go," said Rose, and the expression of nervousness-covered-by-bossiness was back again. Albus remembered the way Flutterbye bushes looked, rippling in a nonexistent breeze, and was reminded of the sensation in his stomach at that exact instant.

They emerged from the compartment into the corridor. The doors were open, and they stepped outside into the misty, smoky evening. Everyone was rushing madly about, most of them heading towards large, horseless carriages. Scorpius glanced at them, then said, "I can see the thestrals."

"I guess they really are invisible," said Albus halfheartedly. He had kind of hoped James was lying. "What do they look like?"

"They're incredibly ugly," said Scorpius. "All bony and black and grey. They look like phantom horses."

"Firs' years!" boomed a large, familiar voice. "Firs' years over here!"

"Hagrid!" said Albus and Rose in unison. Norah let out a tiny gasp as a huge shape loomed out of the smoky mist and turned into Hagrid, carrying a lantern. His beard was grayer and grayer every year, although his crinkly black eyes were just as kind as they ever were.

"Al! Rose!" said Hagrid delightedly, clapping Albus on the shoulder. Albus winced at the weight but grinned and said, "How are you, Hagrid?"

"Oh, jus' about the same as ever," said Hagrid. "And how're yer parents?"

"Mum and Dad are great," said Albus.

"My parents, too," added Rose.

"Tha's good ter hear," said Hagrid. "An' it's yer firs' year, innit? I remember yer dad's firs' year. Seems like jus' a coupla days ago. Well, git along ter the boats, then. An' who are these two?" he asked, catching sight of Scorpius and Norah.

"Our friend Norah Longbottom, and Scorpius Malfoy," said Rose swiftly.

"Another Longbottom? Good to see yeh, Norah. And yer other friend..." Hagrid trailed off, in a way that was meant to be subtle but failed quite miserably.

Scorpius looked at the ground, his face emotionless and smooth, and Albus frowned at Rose, who was smirking. "Come on," he said abruptly, heading down the little forest path that led to the shore of the lake. The moon was full and rising, and it illuminated the dark waters with a pale glow. The lights of the castle twinkled from the other side of the water.

They chose a boat and waited, as the other first-years piled into boats. At four to a boat, they were left alone, but Albus could feel the eyes of his future classmates upon him. He knew it was because they had seen him, or his image, on their Chocolate Frog cards and in the Daily Prophet, and just a few hours ago as the train pulled out of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He looked a lot like his father, and he hoped that he was actually like his father, enough like him to be able to choose Gryffindor if it was really that important. And he hoped the same for the others. He hoped that the Sorting Hat would choose for Rose, who could never make up her mind. He hoped that wherever Norah ended up, she would be happy. And even though Scorpius had proclaimed himself a Slytherin, he secretly hoped that the other boy would be a Gryffindor with him, so that he would have a friend in his house.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, emerging from the forest path and settling himself in the last remaining empty boat. "All righ', then. FORWARDS!"

The boats, which had been unusually still on the surface of the lake, glided forwards at once. Rose clambered to the head of the boat and peered over the edge, leaning over as far as she could. Norah looked over the side, her hand trailing. Scorpius glanced down at the water once, then up at the bright moon, then at the castle, and then stared off into space. Albus's nervous feeling, centering mostly in his stomach, was replaced by a slight nausea. He remembered that he didn't much like boats.

"Keep yer heads down, there's vines!" called Hagrid, and Albus, staring at his feet, looked up just in time to get a vine to the face. He clapped his hands to his glasses before they could fly off.

They were in a dark cave now, almost under Hogwarts itself. Suddenly their boat bumped into a hard surface, and Hagrid said, "There's a ledge, hop on outta there."

Albus scrambled out of the boat and breathed deeply for a moment before helping Norah out. Rose had climbed out on her own, and Scorpius waved him away. They and the other students crowded around Hagrid, who held the lantern. They were all led up a set of stone stairs and up onto the grounds, right underneath the castle wall. Hagrid, in the very front, reached the door, and knocked three times.

Albus swallowed. He reached for Rose's hand, and she took it, clenching his fingers so tight it momentarily distracted him from his nervous stomach. At least he had someone to be nervous with, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Scorpius.
> 
> Poor Hagrid... he can't so soon forget that the Malfoys were admittedly assholes to him...
> 
> Also, Norah is a combination of me and my younger sister. She's like me in that she often feels ugly and inferior in comparison to her sister, who is attractive and talented and everything that Norah feels she is not. She's like my younger sister in that she is pretty and that she is jealous of her older sister for being the talented one. (P.S. Norah is mostly just me though so she's my favorite)


	2. The Sorting (Rose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose, Albus, Scorpius, Norah, and the other first-years are sorted into their Houses, and Rose makes some enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that both Colin and Dennis Creevey died. No, I don't care. For the purposes of this fic, Dennis Creevey is alive and well. And you should more or less just think of him as David Tennant, because that's who I was imagining. (Think the episode where he pretends to be a physics teacher and Rose is a cafeteria lady and Sarah Jane and K-9 show up.)
> 
> I apologize in advance for sorting every single student present. I had to write them in for the sake of my OCD and so when I go back later to look for minor characters they're already present.
> 
> I also apologize in advance for Rose's "logic." By the time I realized that the numbers don't always have to be even (and that there just happen to be five boys apiece in Gryffindor and Slytherin in Harry's year), I had already written most of the story. So I'm just going to pretend like it's a thing.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

The majority of them jumped and spun around. Rose, still holding Albus's hand, released it in surprise. Norah made a noise between a shocked squeak and a gasp. Scorpius jumped, too, but he made no noise or other indication.

An incredibly tall man stood before them, in the open doorway that led toward the main doorway of Hogwarts. They had been shepherded into the little room across from the Great Hall, and Hagrid had left them there to wait. Nervous whispers and speculations about the Sorting had just begun to arise when the pleasantly husky tenor voice pierced their hushed murmurs.

He was very tall, though not as tall as Hagrid, and he had longish, light-brown hair pulled back into a neat tail under his broad-brimmed wizard's hat. He had cheerful, excited brown eyes that were at the same time sharp, sharp enough to catch mischief. Rose rather thought he looked about her father's age, perhaps younger.

 The man smiled, entering the room and closing the door behind him. The faint sounds of the students in the Great Hall chattering faded away. He leaned on the door, hands in pockets, and said casually, "I'm Professor Creevey. You'll all see a lot of me in the coming year. I'm the Transfiguration professor, and you all have to take Transfiguration for five years at least. If, however, you're sorted into Gryffindor, you'll see a lot more of me, as I would be your Head of House. However, there are exactly forty of you, and I will only have the delight of getting probably about ten of you in my house. They tend to divide things fairly evenly." He paused, and Rose suspected it was more for effect than for the sake of pausing. "That doesn't mean that the other houses are unworthy, however. Wherever you end up, you can trust me that you were meant to be there. Which brings me to my main point: the Sorting."  

He paused again. The silence was heavy in the air; it left Rose tense, expectant. But she was also not terribly impressed with Professor Creevey. It seemed to her that he liked to hear himself talk a little too much.

Professor Creevey began to walk around them, through the crowd of students. He didn't stand erect as he walked, like a teacher ought to; instead, he slouched a little bit, his hands still in his pockets. "Before you can sit and eat, you're just Sorted into your house. Trust me, it's not too scary. Not really, anyway. After you're Sorted, you sit at your house table. You all know the colors? Red for Gryffindor, blue for Ravenclaw, yellow for Hufflepuff, green for Slytherin. After you are Sorted, the rest of your life at Hogwarts will be determined by your House. It will determine who is in your classes, where you sleep, where you eat, who your Head of House is, and so on. And your House should be like your family. The older students will be watching out for you, and you make friends with everyone in your House. You're never an outcast within your House." Rose heard a slight snort next to her; Scorpius. She glanced at him skeptically before turning back to Professor Creevey.

"When I was a first-year, I was a great deal smaller, and I fell into the lake during my boat ride," said Professor Creevey. He had circled back around to the door and was leaning on it again. "Incidentally, I still owe the giant squid for my survival, as it picked me up and put me back in my boat. I was quite wet, and Hagrid had to wrap me in his coat. But I still remember it like it was yesterday. Even if you're incidentally dissatisfied with your House, you'll grow to love it. Now, they aren't quite ready for you, so I'll be back in a minute." He opened the door and made as though to leave.

"Excuse me," said a loud voice from the center of the crowd. Rose glanced over. A girl with long, perfectly straight brown hair and sharp greenish-blue eyes stepped forwards. "How are we Sorted again?"

"Good question," said Professor Creevey. "I call your name, you sit on the stool and put on the Sorting Hat, it yells to everyone where you go, you go sit at your House table. Understand?"

"Perfectly," said the girl, and her tone was such that Rose instantly knew that she did not like this girl; Rose always knew when she did not like someone, because of the instant desire to show them up.

"Any more questions?" said Professor Creevey.

Rose raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Were you by any chance in the Battle of Hogwarts?"

A low murmur ran around the group. Professor Creevey smiled broadly.

"I was," he said. "I was very much underage, only in my fourth year, but I believed it was my duty to stay and fight. And perhaps it was not a good thing, because I lost someone very dear to me, but I fought. I'll wager you must be one of the Weasley tribe?"

"Yes, Professor," said Rose demurely. Others were looking at her, and flicking their eyes to Albus. "I'm Ron and Hermione's daughter."

"Tell them Dennis Creevey said hi," said Professor Creevey cheerfully. "Is that all then? And battle questions, if you have any, can be directed to me on the first day of your Transfiguration class. Any other questions? No? Well, I'll be back in a mo to get you." He left the room.

Instantly whispers and murmurs began to run around the room again. They stood in small groups.

"What was all that about?" Albus asked her, bemused.

"Mum told me about the Creevey brothers," explained Rose. "Colin died in the Battle of Hogwarts. He was in Aunt Ginny's year."

She glanced around the room, looking for friendly girls. She made eye contact with the girl with brown hair and blue-green eyes. For a moment they both stared, and then the other girl nodded stiffly to her and turned away to talk to a group of three other girls.

"Oh, Rose, don't make enemies already," said Albus, recognizing her facial expression.

"I can't help whom I naturally dislike," protested Rose.

Scorpius chuckled. For some reason this irked Rose, and she shot him a look.

 "I didn't really like her either," said Norah softly, so that Al and Scorpius didn't hear. "She seems a little... um, conceited."

 _Not just conceited_ , thought Rose, eyeing the girl. _Also_ _sly and deceitful_.

 Suddenly the door opened again, and Professor Creevey said briskly, "Single-file line and march on out. But don't really march, it looks stupid." He grinned. A few of them laughed nervously.

They formed a line. Neither Scorpius, Albus, nor Norah seemed to want to go first, so Rose took the lead and got in line. Albus and Norah quickly followed, and Scorpius loitered behind them. They followed Professor Creevey out of the little room and into the Great Hall.

It was cheerful and gleaming. Students were talking in low voices, older teenagers and kids just barely older than them. Rose glanced around and caught sight of Victoire and Dominique at the table with banners hanging over in blue, and Fred, Roxanne, and James, sitting at the table with red hangings. James waved to her and Al, but his eyes raised at something behind her. Rose, without looking, realized that they were looking at Scorpius. Quite a few people were looking at Scorpius, and many of the looks were considerably less than friendly.

They bunched up at the tables below the long table belonging to the teachers. Rose scanned the dais with the table on it and saw quickly Hagrid, at the far right; Professor Longbottom, who was smiling at Norah; and a gruff-looking older man with a salt-and-pepper beard in the Headmaster's seat.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" she whispered to Albus.

"She retired a few years ago, don't you remember?"

"But who's the headmaster?"

Albus shrugged. "Dunno. We'll find out, I guess."

Everyone became quiet suddenly as the broken seam that served as the mouth of the Sorting Hat opened wide and began to sing.

 

"Oh, one day long ago the Heads of House

Had some disputes.

They didn't know how they would Sort

The students into groups.

They put their Heads together and didn't

Take long to decide,

A Sorting Hat was best, at that, and they

Put some brains inside.

Thus I was born, and since that day

I've Sorted fairly well,

I mostly place you where you want

And where you need to dwell.

Be warned, they're sometimes different places

And feelings might be hurt,

But I promise you on my word as a Hat

That your Sorting is a cert.

There's some I Sort to Gryffindor,

That place of bravest brawn,

A Gryffindor has courage and honor

And glory is their song.

Some of you go to Ravenclaw,

That place for brains and wits,

Wisdom true, and knowledge too,

They're all as smart as whips.

A Hufflepuff seems humble, but

They always know what's best

Hard work and solid character

Will put them to the test.

And those that's left, to Slytherin,

You'll be privileged to go,

For cunning wit and noble pride

Trademark your House, and so

With this advice I leave you all

Both first-years and those Sorted,

Your prejudices might feel right

But true kindness is thwarted.

No matter how you like to fight

In Quidditch and in school,

Friendship and respect are the law,

And kindness is the rule.

So whether you be red or blue,

Or gold or green you sport,

Then just remember, be kind to all.

On friendship, don't be short.

I may just be a hat, you say.

I don't know what it's like.

But trust me, it's a thing to see

Four houses in a fight.

Your Houses may be different, yes,

But you are all ONE school,

And before the house you say you are,

First Hogwarts is your rule.

I'll do my best to see you through

This little ceremony,

For though I'm patched and old and grey

I am no crazed old phony.

I've got the wisdom of the ages

To help and guide your years

The House where you were meant to be.

For I'm a Knowledge Fez!"

 

There was a great deal of applause, although Rose had to smile at some of the ridiculous rhymes.

Professor Creevey cleared his throat and unrolled a small scroll, then read, in a voice loud enough for the whole school to hear, "Appleby, Brett."

A boy with brownish dreadlocks and tanned skin walked forwards confidently, sat on the stool, and placed the hat on his head. Rose wished she could be that cavalier about it.

For a few moments there was silence, and then the Sorting Hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Everyone clapped and cheered, and Brett, with a wide grin, swept the Hat off, placed it on the stool, and went to sit with the Hufflepuffs.

"Brennan, Gabriella!" called Professor Creevey.

A girl with short, thin black hair approached the stool and put on the Hat.

"SLYTHERIN!" cried the Hat.

"Bryson, Kendrick!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Connolly, Claire!"

The girl with the brown hair and the blue-green eyes walked forwards; Rose crossed her fingers and thought, _Slytherin, Slytherin, please be in Slytherin_...

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Merlin's pants," mumbled Rose, even though she knew it was rude. Claire Connolly walked to the Ravenclaw table and sat down next to Victoire, who obligingly slid over to make room for her.

"Cuthbert, Winston!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Dolan, Esme!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_Please, please, please, let me be in Gryffindor. If I have to share a room with Claire Connolly..._

"Farley, Branwen!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Rose's hopes began to rise a little as another girl was assigned to Ravenclaw, a short, pretty blond girl who sat by Claire Connolly and exchanged smiles. If the Ravenclaw girls room filled up fast enough, she would go elsewhere.

"Goldstein, Chance!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Higgs, Charity!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Iverling, Edith!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

_Please, please, let me be in Gryffindor OR let all of the Ravenclaw spaces be filled up before they call my name. I'm at the end of the alphabet, please, please let it fill up..._

"Jennings, Alaric!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Johnsley, Meredith!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Kirkham, Candace!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Here we go," whispered Norah, her face white as a sheet. Rose felt instantly guilty for forgetting about Norah in her own mastermind of arrangements that involved not being in the same house as Claire Connolly. Now she wished that wherever she ended up, Norah would be in her house. That way, they could be roommates.

"Longbottom, Norah!"

"Woohoo!" shouted Fred from the Gryffindor table. Rose glanced over and saw a gorgeous girl with blond hair and brown eyes smack his arm lightly, in a less-flirtatious-more-friendly way. She was sitting across from Fred and next to Roxanne. She had to be Frankie, Rose decided.

Norah placed the Sorting Hat upon her head, closing her eyes tightly. The Hat paused a moment, then shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Rose instantly took back everything she had ever said about not wanting to be a Hufflepuff and in that instant decided that she wanted to be a Hufflepuff more than anything. Norah placed the hat on the stool and walked to the Hufflepuff table, her face more worried than relieved.

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

Rose felt a breath of wind as Scorpius glided past her, impossibly emotionless. The whole hall was very quiet, and she saw narrowed eyes from all of her relations. Norah was watching from her seat at the Hufflepuff table.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat.

"Of course," mumbled Rose, satisfied, as Scorpius walked to the Slytherin table. A prefect made room for him, but nobody around him moved to speak or even greet him except for a few nods. Both of the girls so far assigned to Slytherin were staring at him askance.

"It doesn't mean he's bad," whispered Albus loyally.

"It doesn't mean he isn't," retorted Rose.

"McLaggen, Quincey!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Midgen, Adanna!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Montgomery, Caden!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

_Please just let me be in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Either would be fine. And please let Albus be in whatever house he needs to be in, since he doesn't really seem to care either way. Merlin, if you're up there, you can answer this prayer. If that's what it is._

"Naylor, Brenton!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Ness, Tallulah!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Nott, Lachlan!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Albus was beginning to turn paler. Rose tried to unobtrusively squeeze his hand, as they still stood close together at the back of the remaining first-years. She knew he was nervous.

"Olson-Wilkes, Schuyler!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Potter, Albus!"

A murmur went around the room as Albus, pale and just as skinny as his father, stepped forwards and placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

Rose watched with everyone else. Albus's hands were clenched tight on his lap, and he was mumbling something under his breath. The Hat was moving too, around the seams, but very slightly, as if it, too, were mumbling. Were they... _talking_?

After a full minute, the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheers erupted from the whole hall. Scorpius, alone at his table, did not yell but stood up and clapped loudly and gave a rare smile. Norah was laughing as she applauded Albus, who was beaming with pride as he walked to the Gryffindor table to sit by his brother, Fred, Roxanne, and Frankie Longbottom. Victoire and Dominique both put their fingers in their mouths and whistled, a trick they had learned from Uncle Bill and which they used against boys who whistled at them. Rose couldn't help but smile, too, as she clapped for her cousin. Albus, besides being completely happy, looked incredibly relieved to be in Gryffindor.

Professor Creevey was smiling, too, as he read the next name. "Raymundsen, Sunshine!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Roland, Ellius!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Sagellithan, Chandra!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Rose felt her heart start to pound again. _Merlin, if you're listening and haven't gone deaf to the yelling at you I've been doing, please make me a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. In that order, please._

She glanced at the Ravenclaw table and caught Victoire's eye, who nodded encouragingly, and then saw Claire Connolly, who was mouthing something to her friend Branwen. She squinted, and read their lips: " _...if the red-headed girl ends up in our room, I might die... she'll be such an awkward roommate, ruining all our plans..._ "

"Well, believe me, I don't want to be with you either," mumbled Rose.

"Selwyn, Genevieve!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Stanislaus, Astrophil!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Stobbes, Samantha!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

That was one more Ravenclaw girl. There were only two spaces left. But as Samantha Stobbes sat down next to Branwen Farley, Rose realized that it would be even worse if she did in fact end up in Ravenclaw, because Claire Connolly knew both of them, and they were all friendly with each other. Rose swallowed.

"Tanner, Silvius!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Treville, Vega!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Rose realized with a sinking heart that there were five Gryffindor first-year girls; she would not be in Gryffindor. _Please let it be Hufflepuff, then, if I can't be in Gryffindor. Merlin, please._

"Toberley, Brianne!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

And that was five first-year girls for Hufflepuff. Rose was left with Ravenclaw or Slytherin. She looked at both of those options and winced inwardly.

"Tracey, Leonard!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Tullivan, Phinehas!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Tullivan, Phocas!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

There were only five of them left, two boys and three girls. Rose glanced at the other two girls; one was pretty and cross-looking, with caramel-colored curly hair and a scowl, and one had a reddish blonde pixie cut and a slight smirk on her face. Rose didn't really like either of them. One of the boys was tall and rather broad and the other looked normal, with a a slightly ratlike face.

"Urquhart, Cassandra!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The girl with the pixie cut slouched off to Slytherin, the smirk remaining, and sat.

"Vaisey, Benedict!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The rat boy joined the pixie at Slytherin. Rose glanced over at the Gryffindors and tried to smile. She instantly received five warm smiles from Albus, James, Fred, Roxanne, and Frankie Longbottom. But suddenly Albus cocked his head sideways, a strange expression on his face. He frowned at her. Rose winced. Albus could read her like a book.

"Walsham, Brittany!"

"RAVENCLAW!" Off went Curly, and of course, thought Rose, watching her, she would also be friends with Claire, Branwen, and Samantha. She sat with them and began to talk at once, flipping her hair in all directions as she spoke.

"Warner, Dunstan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The tall boy went over to sit a few seats away from Norah, who was smiling at her. Rose smiled back.

"Weasley, Rose!"

Rose picked up the Hat, sat on the stool, and placed the Hat on her head.

At first there was nothing, and then it was like a little voice was speaking in her ear, "Great Merlin, your mind is simply full of conflict."

 _There's only one place left I can go, so hurry up and send me there, don't make a big production out of it,_ thought Rose, annoyed.

"Oh, and angry, too. Upset that you're going to room with people you don't know or like, that you can't be with your cousin Albus or your friend Norah. You know, I thought about putting one of the girls in Slytherin in Ravenclaw, and then you would be a Slytherin- oh, and with young Malfoy, I see. Would you have preferred that, out of curiosity?"

_Merlin's beard, no._

 "Then you really can't complain," said the Sorting Hat smoothly. "And you'll have your other cousins, older and more capable girls as I see from your thoughts. With the Head Girl as your cousin, I warrant you'll be all right. There'll be no serious cruelty, at least. And you can always try and make friends."

"But do I really belong in Ravenclaw?" whispered Rose.

"I really do think so, my dear. You deduced it yourself. You knew where you were headed before you put me on your head. Not one of the other girls could do that, you know."

Rose took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the Sorting Hat. "And thank you very much, Miss Weasley, if you want to discuss this further I usually occupy Professor Mycroft's office, writing the next year's start-of-term song. It's terribly time-consuming, but I could probably squeeze you in-"

But Rose took off the Hat before it could finish what it was saying, handed it to Professor Creevey, smiled at the clapping, cheering crowd, grinned widely at Albus and her cousins to tell them she was pleased, and walked down the aisle to sit on Victoire's other side, away from Claire, Branwen, Samantha, and Brittany.

"Excellent job, Rose," said Victoire, leaning over to hug her. "I kind of hoped you would be a Ravenclaw. We need more Weasleys here."

"Thanks, Toire," said Rose.

"Nice one, Rose," said Dominique, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Thanks, Dominique." Rose smiled again, kept the smile glued to her face until the whole hall grew quiet.

The man with the salt-and-pepper beard stood up and walked in front of the staff table. Professor Creevey had taken the stool over to the side of the room and was leaning on the wall, the scroll lying on the floor under the stool.

"So most of you don't know me," said the salt-and-pepper man. "That's all right, I don't know most of you."

A few people laughed.

 "My name is Sebastian Mycroft. I'm your new headmaster. Before I moved here a few days ago, I was a member of the Department of Magical Education, and also one of the school governors. Also, a few days ago, I thought I was going to be the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, but that is clearly not the case. Headmaster Elphias Doge suddenly died about three weeks ago. It was a quick, painless end, and he requested at the very end that none of you be told, and for the Daily Prophet informed, but not permitted, to print his death until everyone was well settled into their positions. So when Professor Doge died, they asked me to fill in for him, and then hired as Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher Professor Maximilian Hale." Sebastian Mycroft turned and gestured to a youngish man in his early thirties, who stood at the table. Rose heard a lot of sighs and whispers from the girls; the four girls in her year started to giggle.

"Wow," said Dominique, across the table. "He's... wow."

Rose stared critically at the man. He wasn't much younger than Dad, and he wasn't half so good-looking. He had plain brown hair, tied back in a long tail like Professor Creevey's hair, and his eyes were perhaps a nice shade of blue-gray, but he really wasn't that impressive.

"I'll make other announcements after you have eaten, as I think you are all probably rather hungry. Please enjoy the feast!" Professor Mycroft waved his wand.

The tables filled with all kinds of food. Rose realized she was starving, and reached forwards to serve herself a lamb chop, roasted potatoes, and some salad. She piled some fresh fruit on her plate, too, and was just about to take a bite of roasted potatoes when she happened to glance past Victoire and saw the identical plates of her future roommates: four plates, each neatly lined with a lot of green salad, the tiniest lumps of mashed potatoes, and slivers of roasted chicken. All of their glasses held water. Claire wasn't looking at her, but gorgeous, slender Samantha was, and she raised one eyebrow at Rose's full plate just the tiniest bit.

 Rose knew what they were trying to do. She remembered the self-starvation shaming tactic from the girls at the Muggle school she had attended to learn math and Muggle history for a few years. She looked away deliberately, instead catching Dominique's eye and asking, "So what are the Ravenclaw dormitories like?"

"Oh, they're wonderful," said Dominique. "Gorgeous grey oak four-posters with blue curtains and bedding. Ravenclaw Tower is pretty tall. Now, you have to answer a riddle to get into the tower each time, instead of using a password."

"A riddle? Like what?" said Rose, interested, starting to eat. Victoire filled Rose's glass and her own with pumpkin juice.

"Well, let's see. A pretty common one is ' _Why is a raven like a writing desk?_ ' Guess it." Dominique grinned.

"Let me think," said Rose, mulling it over as she ate her lamb chop. "Should I just tell you if I guess?"

"Whisper, so that not everybody knows," said Dominique.

"Okay, I have a guess." Rose leaned over the table to whisper her guess to Dominique.

"You're right," said Dominique, "although I think there's more than one right answer. Nice one. See if you can figure out more. Sometimes the door wants a specific answer."

"Okay," said Rose. She thought some more, and came up with a few possible solutions that Dominique agreed might all work. Soon they were laughing, and Rose finished her dinner with barely a qualm about the amount of food she was eating as compared to the other girls in her year.

Soon the dinner vanished and the desserts appeared. Victoire and Dominique took platefuls, and Rose followed suit. Her new roommates limited themselves to taking one pumpkin cookie apiece.

Someone tapped on her shoulder; Rose turned to see Albus. "Can I talk to you?" he asked. He was smiling, but his face was still serious.

"Sure thing, Al. Be right back," Rose added to Dominique and Victoire, and followed Albus down to the doorway.

He took her right outside the door, then stopped and said seriously, "Were you upset before you were sorted?"

"No, not really," lied Rose.

He raised one eyebrow.

 "Fine, since you can read my mind anyways, I was a little upset. But not much."

"What were you upset about?"

Rose sighed. "It's really petty, you shouldn't even worry about it."

"If you don't tell me, I will worry about it," said Albus gravely.

"I was sort of mad about being in a room with that stuck-up girl who asked Professor Creevey how the Sorting worked," said Rose. "And then all of our roommates are already friends with her, so I was going to be the outcast. But I can always escape into my trunk, and I have Toire and Dominique."

Albus studied her carefully, then said, "Would you have been happier to be in Gryffindor?"

"Yeah," said Rose. "But there wasn't any space left in that dorm. It got filled up fast."

"What do you mean, it got filled up fast?" said Albus, bewildered.

 "There's on average forty new students, or less, every year. There aren't that many wizards left, you know, especially not our age, because so many of our parents' generation died in the war. Split by four for houses is about ten to a house. Split in half for boys and girls is five girls, five boys to a room every year. When there were only five people left I realized that there were two Ravenclaw girls beds, one Slytherin girls bed, one Slytherin boys bed, and one Hufflepuff boys bed. So they each got called, and when the first girl got called to Slytherin I knew I was a Ravenclaw. I mean, it's definitely not something that happens every year," added Rose hastily. "There's only rarely a perfect amount of people, like there was for our year. I'm just going with some old-fashioned logic. And if I were really meant to be placed in another house, I'm sure I would have gone there. But the Hat knows best."

Albus frowned, then said flatly, "So you knew what house you would be in before you were told?"

"That makes it sound a lot more impressive than it actually is."

"Still..." Albus shook his head. "If the Hat saw that, it better have put you in Ravenclaw. I wonder if anybody else has figured that out." He leaned over and hugged her. "I have the smartest cousin in the whole world. You'll help me with homework, right?"

"It's a deal," agreed Rose.

"We better get back in, " said Albus. "I think Professor Mycroft is going to give his speech soon."

They slipped inside and sat down just as the desserts vanished and Professor Mycroft stood up, smiling broadly.

 "What a wonderful feast," he said, resting his hands on the podium stand in front of the staff table. "I am quite full, as I hope you all are, and I suspect we will all soon be sleepy. So I won't bore you or myself with any unduly long speeches. Here are some announcements and reminders. Firstly, all students should note that the Forbidden Forest is exactly that, forbidden, and that any student who enters without proper staff supervision will be severely punished. There are a great many things in the forest that are likely to kill you out of fear for their own lives. Also, our caretaker Mr. Argus Filch has asked me to remind you that the list of banned items at Hogwarts includes anything bought at the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes joke shop, in addition to the list of eight hundred and ninety-four items posted on Mr. Filch's office door. Mr. Filch would also like me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes. Quidditch trials will be held from the second to third weeks of term by respective House captains. And finally I would just like to say to you all, that tonight has been a wonderful and most successful night, and that I am looking forwards to term, as I am sure are the rest of you. Dismissed."

Suddenly everybody stood up, and Rose looked to Victoire for guidance. Victoire smiled reassuringly at her and pointed to a tall, dark-haired girl with a kind smile. "That's Lyra," she said. "She's showing the first-years up to their rooms."

"First-years over here!" called Lyra.

Rose waved to Dominique and Victoire and went to join Lyra. Her roommates followed, and the five boys in her House joined them.

"I'm just showing you the way," explained Lyra. "Work on it, because it's a really good idea to have the whole castle memorized. It's a big place and you don't want to get lost."

"Doesn't the castle rearrange itself a lot?" said Claire Connolly.

"Just the staircases, but they just move from hall to hall, rarely up and down. Now, the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower are on the fifth floor. We have our own tower, which is nice."

They followed her up a spiral staircase until they reached a door with a bronze eagle knocker on it. Lyra lifted the knocker and tapped it.

The eagle's beak opened, and a soft, musical voice asked, _Why is a raven like a writing desk?_

Lyra turned to look at them. "Do any of you know?" she asked.

Claire Connolly frowned, and turned to consult her friends. Rose stepped forwards, cleared her throat, and said, "Because the notes for which they are noted are not noted for being musical notes."

Lyra burst out laughing. The eagle said, in the same soft, musical voice, _Cleverly calculated_ , and the door swung open.

"Nice one," said one of the boys. He smiled at her. Rose cautiously smiled back, although with the exception of Albus she rarely befriended boys.

Lyra led them in, and the door swung shut. Rose looked around. Prominently featured in the center of the room was a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, and surrounding her were several fireplaces, many cozy-looking blue armchairs, and a crystal chandelier that hung delicately from the ceiling.

"Boys' dormitories are to the left and girls to the right. There are signs on the doors that say your year," said Lyra. "Have a good night!"

Rose walked ahead of the other girls, not wanting to trail after them, and glanced at the doors along the spiral staircase. Seventh... sixth... fifth... fourth... at the very top of the tower, a ladder led up to a trap door, which had a placard attached to it bearing the slogan, "First-Years."

She was in the lead, so she scrambled up the ladder and shoved up on the door. It swung on hinges to hit the floor next to the door, and Rose climbed up inside.

Five four-posters stood in a straight row. Rose spotted her trunk sitting next to the bed furthest from the trapdoor and closest to the window. She made for it at once, sitting on the bed and opening her trunk to look for her pajamas.

"So," said a voice behind her. Claire Connolly stood there, her arms crossed. "What was your name again?"

"Rose Weasley," said Rose coolly.

"I'm Claire Connolly," said Claire. "I guess you know Professor Creevey or something?"

"Not personally," replied Rose, "but certainly by reputation."

 Claire nodded, then turned back to her roommates. They started moving the beds around, pushing them closer together and further from Rose's bed. Rose had no objection to this whatsoever. She closed the curtains on the side of her bed closer to the other girls and slipped down into her trunk to grab her pajamas from the dresser of her clothing that was bolted to her trunk. She changed clothes, threw her dirty ones in the basket she kept in the closet of her trunk-room, and climbed out of the trunk.

"Merlin's pants!" said Claire. "We thought you disappeared." She actually did look a little frightened.

"Hardly," said Rose, forcing a smile. "My mother put a charm on my trunk."

"Your... mother?" said Claire, a slight sneer on her face. "Couldn't you do it yourself?"

 _No, nitwit, it's an advanced spell that took Mum years to master. Of course, I did manage it on the one pocket of my jeans._ "It's illegal to perform magic out of school while underage."

"Naturally," said Branwen, who had moved to stand behind Claire. "But could _you_ have done it?"

"Could you have?" countered Rose.

There was a long pause, and then Branwen snorted and moved away.

 Rose locked her trunk and placed the key on a cord around her neck, then went into the bathroom off the dormitory and washed her face and brushed her teeth. When she was done with that, she got into bed and lay there, staring up through the canopy over her bed at the lights that were still on, wishing desperately that she had been born a few years earlier or that her father's last name had been Granger instead of Weasley, and then she realized that the other girls were going to keep the lights on as long as they could. She reached for her wand, closed the curtains, and whispered, " _Nox_." The lights faded to blackness inside the curtains of her room, and she fell asleep a few minutes later, not entirely miserable but pretty close to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knowledge Fez. No, I could not resist. No, I am not sorry. Yes, I do answer unasked questions a lot.
> 
> Rose is the daughter of Ron Weasley, who often swears according to Merlin's various clothing and body parts, and Hermione Granger, who I imagine while incredibly intelligent, has the personal optimism that comes with believing in a higher power. Therefore I think it appropriate that Rose appeals to Merlin in a sort of prayer, even though Hogwarts is a multi-faith school.
> 
> Also: Professor Hale: The fellow who plays Wickham in the 2005 Focus Features Pride and Prejudice starring Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFadyen. That guy. Yeah.
> 
> Professor Mycroft: a combination of Mycroft Holmes and Cornelius Fudge, but he looks more like Scrimgeour.
> 
> Claire Connolly: think brunette Ruby from Supernatural but with blue or green eyes. (Also with the same charmingly foul disposition.)


	3. Potions Class (Albus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus does untraditional things and discovers that the Potions professor is a horrible, horrible person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse my incredibly mature eleven-year-olds. It's just my idea that they were raised that way, because their parents knew how to grow up properly.
> 
> Boil-curing potion recipe taken from Pottermore possibly with a personal tweak, seeing how I don't recall the cup o' nettles in the Pottermore version. OH WELL.

Albus walked into the Great Hall with two of the boys from his dormitory. They had all seemed good-natured enough, although one of them was a bit loud- Quincey McLaggen. Albus remembered his father teasing his Aunt Hermione about someone named McLaggen, and Uncle Ron had gotten a little cross but had laughed with them. He wondered if Quincey was any relation to the person whom his dad and aunt and uncle knew. But Quincey wasn't with him. He might still have been asleep; he snored like a dragon. Albus tried to remember who he was walking with. One was Alaric, a skinny boy with shaggy reddish-blond hair. Alaric and Albus, and they were both Al. That would be confusing. And the other boy had an odd name, too. Astrophil. He had told them first thing that if anyone ever called him Astrophil they would be hexed. He went by Phil. And Phil was about a head taller and at least twenty-five pounds heavier than the rest of them, so they accepted the threat with good grace.

"We get our class schedules today, don't we?" said Alaric, sitting down at the table and serving himself scrambled eggs.

"Something like that," said Albus, craning his neck to find his other friends. Rose was sitting at her House table with Victoire and Dominique; she was laughing and smiling, but she looked tired, and there was something not quite right about her eyes, something that Albus suspected had to do with the girls in her room. He found Norah at the Hufflepuff table, sitting next to a girl with dark brown pigtails who he thought was named Sunshine Raymundsen. But the Slytherin table lacked one pale blond head. Albus stood up again from his seat, searching harder.

"Who're you looking for?" said Phil, his mouth full of pancakes; but it became apparent who when the door to the Great Hall opened and Scorpius walked in.

He walked slowly, and he was clearly in pain, favoring his right foot. The bridge of his nose was bruised, the way one's nose bruises after it has been broken, and he cradled his left arm in a sling. His left eye was swollen and purple, and his upper lip was a little bit fat.

"Who do you think did that to him?" breathed Alaric.

But Albus knew. He could see several larger, older Slytherins chuckling amongst themselves as they watched Scorpius walk slowly to the end of the Slytherin table closest to the teachers, the end that was deserted, and sit down. He reached for the orange juice and began to pour, but his arm was shaking.

Albus stood up, grabbed his glass of chocolate milk and his plate of toast and eggs, hopped over the bench, and began walking towards the Slytherin table.

"Where're you going?" said Phil, bemused.

"I'm sitting with Scorpius," answered with Albus. "You can come if you want. He won't mind, I promise."

He didn't look back to see if they had followed, but made his way past the Hufflepuff table, then the Ravenclaw table, and sat down by Scorpius.

Scorpius looked at him, then said curtly, "If I even had a social status before this, you've ruined it now. Also, your friends seem to think you've gone mad."

"Too bad," said Albus. "You need help, and I'm here to help you." He grabbed a pot of eggs and spooned a generous serving onto Scorpius's plate, then took two triangles of toast and set them down next to it. Scorpius took a sip of orange juice and watched as Albus leaned over to get a bowl of sausage and served both himself and Scorpius.

"Do you know how many people just watched the son of Harry Potter walk over to sit at the Slytherin table with the son of Draco Malfoy?"

"No, and I don't really care." He could feel their eyes boring into the back of his head with their stares.

"Why are you doing this, really?"

 "Because you're my friend," said Albus. "And because in a school with a few hundred kids, nobody should have to sit alone at breakfast. Who would you complain about how early we have to get up to?"

"We do have to get up pretty early if we want a shower before breakfast."

"Exactly. Now, could you have made that interesting point without someone to sit with?"

"No," said Scorpius, his voice more amused. "Very well, I'll stop trying to tell you what to do. It's not as though I could enforce it at the moment anyway."

"That's the spirit," said Albus. "Now, why did they beat you up?"

Scorpius shook his head.

"What, you won't tell me?"

"No," said Scorpius. "It's not any of your business, and I don't want you or anyone else involved."

"You could write your parents."

 "Merlin's beard, no," said Scorpius, grimacing. "My father told me before I got on the train to tell him about anything that annoyed me, and he would get it fixed. I made up my mind right then and there not to tell him anything that upset me at school. I don't want to depend on him for anything."

Albus frowned. "Why not?"

"Because he wouldn't solve the problem. He would just squash it flat with a bag of gold." Scorpius sighed. "That's how my dad solves problems. He pays people to fix things or to make the problems go away. That's a really stupid way to solve a problem if you ask me, because it's not solving it. It's ignoring it. It's ignoring an opportunity to learn something."

"You're smarter than some adult wizards I know," said Albus. "Now eat, before I start feeding you like a baby in front of the whole school."

"I'm not smart. Just logical." Scorpius picked up his fork and began eating his scrambled eggs.

Albus made sure Scorpius was really eating, then dug into his own breakfast. They ate in silence for several minutes.

"You better go back to your own table and get your schedule," said Scorpius, the exact moment Albus had finished his breakfast.

"Well, gee, you'd think you didn't want me around," joked Albus.

"I do want you around," said Scorpius. "But not when I'm getting beaten up, because there's nothing you, or I for that matter, can do about it."

"We'll see about that," said Albus, and stood up to leave.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind them.

Albus turned. It was Professor Creevey.

"That's a lovely set of injuries you've got there," said the teacher to Scorpius, sitting down in Albus's place. "You do know we have an infirmary, right?"

Scorpius shrugged, his face turning to stone.

"I think he'd rather not talk about it," said Albus.

Professor Creevey glanced at him, then said quietly, "If it's a matter of pride, I can heal your hurts in my office slowly over the course of the week, so it looks like you naturally heal very fast. I'm not as good as Poppy Pomfrey, but if I'm not mistaken you have a twisted ankle and a sprained wrist, and both of those things are very hard to walk to class and take notes with."

Scorpius shrugged again.

Professor Creevey raised both eyebrows, drew his wand unobtrusively under the table, pointed it at Scorpius's foot, and murmured, " _Episkey_."

Scorpius stared at Professor Creevey, then wiggled his foot around.

"I can do the wrist, too, and you can leave it in the sling if you want," said Professor Creevey indifferently.

Scorpius cleared his throat, then said politely, "I would be grateful, if you're so inclined."

Professor Creevey nodded, flicked his wand at Scorpius's wrist, stood up, and walked away.

"That was nice of him," said Albus.

Scorpius nodded. "I suppose so." He glanced at something behind Albus. "Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are getting their schedules. You had better go get yours."

Albus nodded. "See you later."

"See you around."

Albus took his plate and cup back to the Gryffindor table and sat down by Alaric and Phil.

"Are you friends with him?" said Alaric.

 "Yeah," said Albus. "Our dads hate each other, so we have some stuff in common." He didn't feel the need to explain any further, partially because he didn't really know why himself- but Scorpius was a very nice person, and Albus liked him without hesitation.

Professor Creevey began handing out schedules. Albus glanced at his, then smiled. "We all have the same classes, don't we?"

"Yeah," said Phil. "So History of Magic at nine?"

"Sure thing," said Albus, standing up. "I'm just going to say hi to my friend Norah and my cousin Rose. See you in class."

As he walked away, he heard Alaric say, "He sure has a lot of friends."

"He's Albus Potter, of course he has friends," was Phil's reply.

Albus sat down on Norah's free side and said, "Hi."

"Hi, Albus," said Norah, smiling. "This is my friend Sunshine. Sunshine, this is my friend Albus."

"Hi," said Sunshine, offering her hand. They shook.

"What does your schedule look like?" Albus asked Norah. They compared schedules.

"We have History of Magic together next," said Norah, "and Herbology on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"Well, I'll always have someone to sit with, right?" said Albus with a grin.

Norah nodded. "You can count on me. See you in class."

"See you." Albus made his way over to Rose, Victoire, and Dominique. They were sitting together, with a few of Victoire's older friends.

"Hey, Rose."

"Oh, hi, Al." Rose smiled at him, and Albus definitely noticed the weariness in her eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Not really, no," said Rose. "My roommates had the lights on until two in the morning. I feel like it was done to annoy me, but I could just be paranoid."

Albus cast a glance down at the four girls their age, who were all giggling and whispering among themselves. One of them, the girl with brown hair who he knew Rose really didn't like, glanced over at them and laughed maliciously.

"No, I think you're right on," he told Rose. "They don't seem very nice."

Rose shrugged. "I'm doing okay."

"Scorpius doesn't have nice roommates, either," said Al. "Or House-mates, for that matter."

"What did you expect? He is a Slytherin," said Rose scornfully.

"They beat him up."

"Good."

"They broke his nose, sprained his wrist, and twisted his ankle. That's pretty cruel."

"Even better."

 "Do you even hear yourself?" said Albus, exasperated. "You're not being fair to him. You wouldn't put up with it if someone did that to me, or Norah, or Hugo."

"You're his friend, not me," said Rose. "Don't expect me to just like him out of nowhere."

"You shouldn't be mean to him out of nowhere, either."

"It's not mean. It's just mutual dislike." Rose yawned, then said, in a tone that was forcefully cheery, "Well, I have a free hour before History of Magic, so I'm going to head upstairs and take a nap. See you in Transfiguration." She stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

Albus sighed. He knew he should have known better than to try and persuade Rose into anything before eleven in the morning. He glanced back at everybody still in the Great Hall. Norah, chatting with Sunshine; Scorpius, eating alone and looking over his schedule; his brother, goofing off with Fred; and Professor Creevey, who was looking down at his breakfast. Albus had the feeling that he had almost caught the Transfiguration professor in the act of staring at him. He turned and followed Rose out of the Great Hall.

History of Magic was boring, incredibly so. Both Dad and Mum had warned him of this, and it was all Albus could do to take notes without falling asleep. Professor Binns, the same as he ever was, being dead, took roll and began his dreary lecture. Norah, next to him, took notes diligently but doodled in the margins of her paper as well. Looking closer, Al could see that her doodles were little sketches of the events discussed in the notes, and that they were very well drawn. He was impressed.

After History of Magic, he had a free hour, so he went back to the common room with Alaric and Phil and glanced over the notes he had taken. He had no desire to rehash them out just yet, however, so he opened his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ , and looked at the first spell listed inside.

" _Reparo_ ," it read, "Pronunciation: reh-PAH-roh. For the purpose of fixing objects that are broken."

Albus shrugged, pointed his wand at his trainers, and said, " _Reparo_!"

One of his trainers flew off his foot and hit Phil, who was napping on one of the couches, in the head.

"Nice one," said Alaric, who was flicking his wand from place to place to produce orange sparks.

"Ow," complained Phil.

Transfiguration was more his style. At eleven they went down to the Transfiguration classroom. Rose was waiting outside with a grumpy expression on her face.

"What's up?" said Albus.

"My roommates hate me so I had to sit with Scorpius," she said, her scowl deepening.

"Just you wait until you can hex your roommates," said Albus with a smile. "Brighten up, Rose. It's nice outside, and we have a whole class of wandwork ahead of us."

Rose reluctantly smiled back. "You always know what to say, Al."

Professor Creevey was not present when they walked into the classroom, but there was a tall, thin stork perched on a stand on the desk. It surveyed them all calmly as they walked in and sat down. Phil and Alaric sat to the left of Albus and Rose, who took the center desk of the front row.

For several minutes they sat in silence, waiting for Professor Creevey to walk in and then suddenly the stork hopped off the desk and as it landed transformed into Professor Creevey.

"Wow," said Albus, delighted. Professor Creevey, an actual Animagus- that wasn't something he had expected.

"Thanks," said Professor Creevey. "I like storks; they're kind of tall and skinny. Like me, except my nose is a lot smaller." They all laughed. "As you can see, I'm an Animagus. There are very few registered Animagi, although there have been a few unregistered ones. How many of you have ever heard of Rita Skeeter?"

Albus and Rose raised their hands; a few others did, including the girl Rose didn't like, the one with brown hair.

"Go on, Miss Connolly."

Claire cleared her throat importantly. "Rita Skeeter was a reporter for the Daily Prophet, and she obtained a lot of her information illegally because she was an unregistered Animagi and could turn into a beetle and therefore had the opportunity to eavesdrop on various persons."

"Excellent, Miss Connolly, five points to Ravenclaw. Miss Skeeter focused her campaign of illegally obtained information on creating scandal regarding Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, headmaster during Potter's stay at Hogwarts. Specifically, she wrote during the Triwizard Tournament and then continued to slander Potter during the Wizarding War."

Albus was puzzled. His dad had never told him that Rita Skeeter had slandered him. He would have to write home and ask about it.

"Another unregistered Animagus was Peter Pettigrew," said Professor Creevey. "Pettigrew, at some point during his years at Hogwarts, learned how to transform himself into a rat. He used this to his advantage on the side of Lord Voldemort during the Wizarding War. It's not known how Pettigrew became an Animagus, as he was incredibly untalented during his time at Hogwarts and into adulthood. A mediocre wizard, at best."

Albus saw Rose open her mouth, probably to say something to show up Claire Connolly, and kicked her. Their parents had instructed them not to tell anyone about Grandfather James, Uncle Sirius, or Uncle Remus, who had been friends with Pettigrew. Rose looked embarrassed and closed her mouth.

For the rest of the hour, Professor Creevey gave them histories of other Animagi and then amused them by Transfiguring various things around the room. His lamp became a pumpkin, and the chalkboard turned into a gorgeous oil painting. Finally, the chandelier became a skeleton, and as Professor Creevey dismissed them, a huge smile on his face, all of the Transfigured objects returned to their normal state.

Albus and Rose walked to lunch. To Al's surprise, Rose, Victoire, and Dominique joined them at the Gryffindor table, and they had a family lunch, with Fred and James and Roxanne. There were a few others, like Frankie Longbottom, and also Rory and Meghan Finnegan, who were the children of Dad's old friend Seamus. Rory was a fourth-year, with a lazy drawl and a sense of humor that kept them all in stitches. Meghan was brisk and bossy and very pretty, and she was in James's year. They seemed like pretty good friends.

After lunch Albus found Scorpius, who was walking properly and seemed to be in much less pain than he was in the morning. His lip was less swollen, and the bruising around his eye and nose was faded.

"Did someone heal you?" asked Albus.

"Did someone?" said Scorpius absently, touching his nose and then his eye. "I hadn't noticed. Mind you, Rose looked pretty bored in History of Magic. She could have fixed me up."

"She's a first year, she wouldn't have known how," said Albus.

"It could have been Professor Brocklehurst, too. She was sort of eyeing me like she wanted to fix me up during Charms. She's the motherly sort." Scorpius rolled his eyes. "We have Potions next, don't we? Let's head down to the dungeon."

They walked down the dungeon stairs and entered the Potions classroom. A few students were already there; Albus and Scorpius sat squarely in the middle of the room, at a table that could seat four. Soon Phil and Alaric filed in, and although they glanced warily at Scorpius, they sat down at the table.

"Scorpius, this is Phil and Alaric," said Albus. "Phil, Alaric, meet Scorpius."

"Pleased to meet you," said Phil, offering his hand. Scorpius reached out and shook it, nodding.

"Likewise," added Alaric, although he didn't offer to shake hands. Scorpius nodded to him, too.

Suddenly the room grew very, very quiet. There was something eerie about the room, thought Albus, looking around. The lights were a greenish color, and it was a little chilly. His foot nudged his cauldron where it sat next to his potion-making kit, and he could feel the cold iron through his shoes. He shivered.

"Good afternoon," said a soft, pleasant voice from the doorway.

The witch who had spoken strode forwards through the desks, lightly gliding from table to table with the grace of a princess. She had pale brown hair, medium-length and loose, flowing into perfect curls. She was slender and pretty, but her black eyes were not at all kind, and Albus suddenly realized that he did not really trust her or even like her.

"My name is Professor Lympsham," she said pleasantly from the front of the room. "I will be teaching you Potions this year."

She picked up a small scroll on the desk and began to read out the roll. Albus began to notice a pattern; Slytherin girls got big, toothy smiles from Professor Lympsham; Slytherin boys got smaller ones; all Gryffindors received a straight face but the boys had more of a scowl.

"She favors her own house," murmured Alaric, and Phil nodded.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Albus looked up, startled; for a moment he thought he had heard a note of malice in Professor Lympsham's voice. Scorpius raised his good arm. Albus looked at Professor Lympsham.

  No, he hadn't mistaken it. Professor Lympsham, looking at Scorpius, had something in her eyes between hatred and loathing.

"Albus Potter."

Albus raised his hand, and was surprised to see that although he, too, got a glare, it was less intense than the one she had given Scorpius.

"All right, class, today we're going to start with a fairly simple potion. It is used to cure boils. Please take notes as we begin."

Albus rummaged for parchment and quill and began to write: "A potion for curing boils."

"Can I copy your notes later?" Scorpius whispered. "I need to be giving the illusion that I can't write."

"Sure thing."

"No talking, please," Professor Lympsham's voice rang out. "First, you need to place six snake fangs in your mortar and crush them with the pestle. Try not to prick yourself with the fangs, as they are sharp and poisonous. Anyone needing extra fangs may come up to my desk and take some from the box."

Scorpius held the mortar in place with his bad arm and began to grind awkwardly with his good one. Albus finished writing, "Place six snake fangs in mortar, grind with pestle," and hurried to do so.

"Next, you will take four measures of the powdered snake fang and place it in your cauldron. I have taken the liberty of lighting your cauldron fires and boiling your water for you, as it will be much faster to do it this way. Part of your homework will be to figure out the incantations for both burning wood and boiling water, as you will use both frequently in your Potions work throughout your school career."

Albus hastily scribbled down the homework in the margin and carefully poured four measures of powdered fang and dumped it into his boiling water. The water turned a vile, thick shade of olive green. He could see bits of larger fang in his potion. He glanced over at Scorpius's cauldron. It looked about the same.

"Mr. Potter, you will next time want to powder your snake fangs more thoroughly," said Professor Lympsham, right behind him. Albus jumped. "The powder should be very fine." She peered into Scorpius's cauldron, sniffed, and passed by without comment.

"Next, you will need to heat your potion to two hundred and fifty degrees for ten seconds," said Professor Lympsham. "I will take care of this." She raised her wand. Suddenly the chilly dungeon room grew much hotter. "While your potion brews for the next forty-five minutes, you should prepare your other ingredients. Have four horned slugs, a cup of dried nettles, and two porcupine quills ready, but do not add them to the potion."

For the next forty-five minutes, they watched their potions change from a sickly olive green to acid green, which Albus noticed was the color of Professor Lympsham's nail polish. The dungeon was beginning to fill with smoke and steam, and a few people's cauldrons were beginning to smell funny. Albus sniffed his. It smelled all right, though certainly not like anything his parents ever brewed. It didn't smell nearly as bad as Polyjuice Potion, which his dad kept a cauldronful of in the shed behind the house.

"Please add the dried nettles and the horned slugs, in that order," said Professor Lympsham, finally. "Do not add the porcupine quills. I repeat, do not add the porcupine quills."

With a sigh of relief, Albus dumped the cup of dried nettles into his cauldron, then the horned slugs. He had been feeling ill just looking at the slugs.

"Lovely little buggers, aren't they?" mumbled Alaric, sweeping his slugs into the cauldron as well.

"What happens if you add the quills?" wondered Phil.

"An excellent question, Mr. Stanislaus," said Professor Lympsham's sweet voice, right behind Phil, who jumped. "If you are stupid enough to add the porcupine quills to your cauldron at this exact moment, your cauldron will melt and whoever the flooding contents touches will go all over boils. So I suggest that nobody add the quills before the time I have explicitly stated. I remember my first day of Potions, where someone did just that. It's funny how things work out- I believe the culprit was Professor Longbottom."

Albus glanced at Scorpius, and knew that they had both thought of Norah and how she liked Potions. Albus wondered if she knew that her father had melted his cauldron on the very first day of Hogwarts.

"Please remove your cauldrons from the fire," said Professor Lympsham, and wait for them to stop bubbling. Then and only then may you add the porcupine quills. When you have done so, please stir five times clockwise, wave your wand and you are done."

Albus finished writing the instructions and took his cauldron off the little fire. It went out at once. Scorpius reached down and struggled to lift the cauldron with his arm in a sling. Albus hurried around the table to help him.

"Tut, tut, Mr. Potter," said a soft, sweet voice behind him. Albus turned. Professor Lympsham was smiling, shaking her head. "What are you doing? Mr. Malfoy is to complete his own potion. Yours needs your own work."

"He can't lift the cauldron, his wrist is sprained," said Albus. "I was just trying to help."

Professor Lympsham shook her head, still smiling. "Helping in Potions class is not allowed. Each person must know how to brew his or her own potion. Mr. Malfoy will complete his own potion and you are not to interfere, or I will mark you both with zeroes for this class."

Albus stared at Professor Lympsham, who waited, still smiling.

"Sit down," said Scorpius quietly. "It's really not worth it, Albus."

"I think it is," said Albus, "because it's ridiculous. It's not like I'm mixing the potion for you. I'm just lifting your cauldron."

"Sit down, Mr. Potter, or I shall mark your potion a zero for the day," said Professor Lympsham.

Albus swallowed something that had threatened to jump out his throat and sat.

Scorpius glanced down at his cauldron. Professor Lympsham had not moved. She was watching Scorpius with the same sweet smile on her face.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked. "Are you going to follow the directions, or not?"

The whole class was watching now. Scorpius, his face stony and straight, mumbled something under his breath and pointed his wand at the cauldron. It rose into the air, drifted off the fire, and landed on the floor.

Professor Lympsham's face flashed sour for a moment, but then she merely said, "Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, for using magic in class without permission."

Albus snorted loudly. Professor Lympsham's eyes flicked to him, but she only said, "Keep working, everyone."

Albus added the porcupine quills to his potion. It turned a lovely shade of orange. He stirred five times clockwise, then waved his wand over the potion. A cloud of clear steam rose into the air.

"Please wait by your potions until I can record your grade, which depends upon your success in making the potion," said Professor Lympsham.

Albus gathered up his books and notes and placed them in a pile, ready to run upstairs to Potions. Scorpius did the same but more slowly.

Professor Lympsham glanced into Albus's cauldron, then said, "Acceptable." An "A" appeared in green ink on her notepad next to his name. She strolled around to Alaric's cauldron and then to Phil's, nodding and grading. She got to Scorpius's potion and stared into it for a while.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said, after a moment, "what is this supposed to be?"

"A potion that cures boils, Professor Lympsham," said Scorpius, his face devoid of expression.

"Perhaps so, Mr. Malfoy, but what you think it is supposed to be and what I think it is are two entirely different things."

Albus looked at Scorpius's potion. It looked exactly the same as his. He could feel his ears beginning to turn red.

"This merits no more than a Poor," said Professor Lympsham, and a "P" in red ink appeared next to Scorpius's name. "If, indeed, it merits even that."

Scorpius's face remained absolutely calm.

"Excuse me," said Albus politely, although he felt like shouting.

"You are excused, Mr. Potter, you may leave for your next class, as I have given you your grade," said Professor Lympsham silkily. "Class dismissed." She walked away, into her office behind the classroom, and closed the door.

Albus, simmering with anger, picked up some of Scorpius's books and helped him pack up his things. Once they were out of the classroom he said, "That was incredibly unfair."

Scorpius shrugged. "So my potion was bad."

"It looked exactly the same as mine!" said Albus, not believing that Scorpius was defending Professor Lympsham. "In fact, mine was worse, because I didn't do a good job grinding up the fangs! And she gives you a whole letter grade lower! What a-"

"I really think you shouldn't finish that sentence, Mr. Potter," said a smooth voice behind Albus, and Professor Lympsham passed them, walking up the stairs. Scorpius's face was as cold and emotionless as it had been the first time Albus had seen him.

"Where are you headed?" Albus asked Scorpius.

"I have an hour's break before Transfiguration. I was going to sit outside the Transfiguration room," said Scorpius.

"Okay. I have a break before we all have Flying class, so I'll copy the Potions notes out then and get you the extra copy after Flying, okay?" said Albus.

Scorpius didn't look at him; his voice was brittle as he said, "Fine."

"See you later," said Albus.

"See you around."

Albus, still angry, headed up to Charms. He was nearly late and arrived just in time to sit down by Rose before Professor Brocklehurst walked in. She was a smiling witch about their parents' age with frizzy black hair and kind grey eyes.

While they worked on the Reparo spell that Albus had tried to learn in the common room, Rose said, "You look really annoyed."

Albus grunted, and flicked his wand at the broken twig in front of him. It flew up into the air and landed exactly where it had begun on his desk. Professor Brocklehurst raised one eyebrow at him.

"Potions was horrible," he said at last. "The teacher hates Scorpius."

"Does she hate you?"

"Not as much."

"Then I don't see why you're complaining," said Rose briskly, pointing her wand at her torn pillowcase. " _Reparo_!" The threads on the tear wove back into each other.

"Nice one," said Albus, staring moodily at his twig. "But really. Our potions looked exactly the same, except mine was a little worse because I didn't grind up my snake fangs as well, and she gave me a passing grade and Scorpius got a failing grade."

Rose opened her mouth, then closed it, then frowned. "Hmmmmm," she finally said.

"I bet you're pleased," said Albus sourly.

"I was, initially," admitted Rose, "but you are really upset about this, so I'm trying not to be."

"Did you heal Scorpius during your History of Magic class?" Albus asked her suddenly.

Rose scowled. "It was bothering me, that great big bruise all over his eye and nose. It doesn't mean I like him, or that we're friends."

"No, I know," said Albus. "Thanks, on his behalf."

"You're welcome, on yours," said Rose. "Now fix your twig."

Albus pointed his wand at the twig, concentrated, and said, " _Reparo_."

The twig melded together for a moment, then fell apart again.

"You've got it," said Rose encouragingly.

" _Reparo_!"

With a cracking noise, the twig sealed itself back into one piece.

"Good job," said Rose.

"Professor Lympsham said something else, too," said Albus.

"What?"

"She said that on his first day of school, Professor Longbottom melted his cauldron in Potions class."

"So?"

"So why is Norah good at Potions?"

Rose shrugged. "She said she likes it, not that she's good at it."

"You like everything you're good at."

"That's me." Rose got up and went to the pile of broken things on the table in the center of the room and removed a cracked watch and a fancy wire wall hanging that had been slashed through. She set the wall hanging down at her desk and the watch on Albus's. "But we'll see. I have Potions with Norah tomorrow morning."

"Let me know how you both do," said Albus. "And if Professor Lympsham is mean to you or not." He pointed his wand at the watch. " _Reparo_!"

The crack in the glass vanished, and the second hand of the wand began to move at once.

"That must have been a really strong one, it fixed the crack and the second hand," said Rose. "I like this class."

"Me, too. But I'm more excited for Transfiguration." Albus studied the watch. It was a wizard's watch, with an ornate design burnt into the leather wrist straps and a swirling pattern under the numbers and hands.

"Well done," said Professor Brocklehurst to Rose. "How many things have you repaired today?"

"Four," said Rose proudly.

"Excellent. You have a natural talent for charms. Work hard at it, Miss Weasley. Ten points to Ravenclaw." Professor Brocklehurst glided away. Rose smiled.

"Good job," said Albus.

"It's nice to know I'm really good at something."

"You're really good at just about everything," said Albus, amused.

Rose rolled her eyes, as the bell rang.

"Class dismissed!" called Professor Brocklehurst. "Practice your Repairing Spells and get them perfect! You can even tear up your textbooks and repair them if you have to!"

"The idea of tearing up a textbook fills me with horror," said Rose under her breath to Albus, who laughed. "What do you have next?"

"A free hour. I had to take notes for Scorpius in Potions, so I was going to copy those over and give them to him."

"Do you want to do it in the library? I haven't been to the library yet."

"What did you have after lunch?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"How was that?"

"It was okay. Nothing terribly difficult. Professor Hale is quite nice." Rose sniffed. "All of the girls in my class, excepting Norah and I, seemed to think him terribly attractive for some reason. Norah said she could think of much better-looking people, and frankly I could care less about what he looks like so long as he teaches the subject matter properly."

They walked into the library and found a table. Albus opened his Potions notes and stared at them in dismay. They were a mess, hastily scrawled words and an illegible homework assignment.

"Oh, here, let me," said Rose impatiently, grabbing his notes. "You really need to work on your penmanship."

Albus smiled and let Rose copy out his notes twice, once for him and once for Scorpius. He also knew she would copy them out a third time for herself, so that she could study them before class started and have an edge on everyone else. He thought about his classes and about Potions, and about Rose and Norah and Scorpius, and about how in an hour's time he would be flying on a rickety school broom and wishing he had his Nimbus Two Thousand and Seven from back home. James, who loved flying much more, had been begging their dad for a Firebolt for his birthday. James had a Nimbus Two Thousand and Nine, because he kept up with the latest models and sold his old brooms to the secondhand stores every year. Albus knew his brother would be trying out for the Quidditch team, as a Chaser. James was always the Chaser, and he made Lily Keeper and Albus Seeker when they played in the backyard.

He sighed happily. With the exception of Potions, he had had a wonderful day, and it wasn't even over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't Scarlett Lympsham simply horrid? If you remember her from my Drastoria fic, not much has changed.
> 
> Albus is Harry plus vaguely more outgoingness
> 
> Remember how I wrote Draco being nicer in my Drastoria fic? He still is nicer, and he worries about Scorpius because he remembers that a large percentage of his Hogwarts experience sucked. But Scorpius is more like his mum in that he's very independent.


	4. Friends (Rose with a little Albus at the end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose adjusts to academic and social life at Hogwarts and narrowly escapes death by Devil's Snare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please disregard any discrepancies from canon as an oversight on the part of the author. Canon was meant to be followed in this fic but where arrangements could not be made for discrepancies the author hopes they are not offensive to lovers of the Hogwarts universe.
> 
> Hermione has at this point standardized the bluebell flames spell (and by that I mean she's registered it with the Ministry) but it's not included in most textbooks and Rose likes it for that reason.

Rose had arrived at Hogwarts with the highest expectations of being able to enjoy her classes and have fun with Albus. That had been before they had been Sorted into separate Houses, and before Rose's roommates had contrived among themselves to make her life miserable. And they did a pretty good job of it, for it could not be denied that Rose was, in fact, quite miserable.

 Every morning at five she woke up and took her shower in twenty minutes flat, then went back to bed in her pajamas with her wet hair wrapped in a towel. She had to do this because if she had not showered by five-thirty, the bathroom would be occupied until eight by her roommates, showering and styling their hair and generally primping in such a fashion as made Rose feel dowdy and unsophisticated. At seven-thirty she rose, usually having been unable to sleep in the two hours and ten minutes since her shower because of the noise her roommates made in the mornings, and dried her hair with a little charm she had picked up from her mother, who had had hair problems as a young witch herself. Rose's hair, while not bushy or thoroughly unmanageable, was thick and easily snarled, and Rose often spent fifteen minutes alone on her hair, working the brush through it bit by bit. About once a week her hairbrush would snap in two, and Rose would sigh, perform a Repairing Spell, and continue to brush her hair. At seven forty-five she would get dressed, pull on her robes, tie her high-top sneakers, and walk down to the common room to join Victoire and Dominique, who waited for her. Victoire had asked her once why she didn't eat with her friends, and Rose had been forced to reply, trying to keep shame from her face and tears from her eyes, "I do eat with my friends." After that nothing more was spoken about Rose spending more time with Victoire and Dominique than with her own roommates.

She would go to class every day; a day of exhausting classes if it was a Monday, a Wednesday or a Friday, or on Tuesdays and Thursdays she would attend only two classes, an hour and a half instead of an hour apiece. Tuesdays and Thursdays were usually also when she did her homework, dragging all of her books to the library and spending hours there, so that she didn't have to go back to her dormitory. At eleven at night on Tuesdays and Thursdays she would trot up to the Astronomy Tower and sit between Norah and Albus to learn about the planets and the movements of the stars. Astronomy lessons were supposed to last one hour, but they usually ended up being two, which Rose didn't mind so much, but she would crawl into bed at one-thirty in the morning and catch a few hours of sleep before getting up again at five the next morning.

And if she went back to the dormitory at all, there was always one roommate there. There was always at least one. Sometimes it was Claire, who would ask her perfectly civil questions with an undertone of malice in them. Sometimes it was Branwen, who would ignore her pointedly. Sometimes it was impossibly beautiful Sam, who would stare at her the whole time she was in the room and let out a nasty giggle as she closed the door to leave. And sometimes it was Brittany, who seemed to be unable to concentrate on anything she was doing when Rose walked into the room. And then, of course, sometimes they were all there, sitting on their pushed-together beds and whispering and giggling, and as soon as Rose walked in there was a sudden silence, and if Rose ducked into her trunk she could hear them saying nasty things about her, things she didn't think were true but which kept her up at night, wondering if they _could_ be true.

And they were all pretty, and worse still they were all smart, and Rose hated that especially because she could have ignored them if they were stupid. But they were all of them smart, and although Rose knew she was at least a little smarter, according to the Sorting Hat, she was still not smarter by a high enough margin to completely disdain them.

They stayed up late, and somehow managed to have more energy than Rose. Rose knew that they stayed up late on purpose, to keep her up. It usually worked, too. She was always tired and ill and miserable, and although she studied diligently and learned spells faster than anybody in their whole year, she was lonely and friendless. She only spent time with Norah and Albus when they had classes together, and Scorpius was just somebody to sit next to in classes with Slytherins, because nobody wanted to sit with him, either. Two losers working together, but separately.

And she loved all her classes, even Potions, where Professor Lympsham smiled sardonically at all of them and told them all, except Norah, how stupid they were at least once a day, in the nicest way possible. But oh, how she hated Herbology. She loved Professor Longbottom, who was kind and patient and funny and always willing to work with someone who was having trouble. But she never could tell the differences between the plants. She mixed up the names and dropped things, and she sat alone at a table with Scorpius, who only spoke when they had to share something, and both her roommates and the girls in Slytherin snickered when she made a mistake.

One week into October, on a rainy Thursday evening, Rose took her books out to Greenhouse One and sat in the empty room, studying. She was tired and she had to do other homework, too, but surely she could study her Herbology notes in private and with the help of the plants. The cold air would keep her awake, too. Professor Longbottom only locked Greenhouses Three through Seven. One and Two were "safe enough," he explained to them on the first day of class, as he taught them the Revulsion Jinx so that if something with feelers grabbed them, they could defend themselves. He left those two Greenhouses unlocked, and while students were _technically_ supposed to have permission to be in them, Rose knew that Professor Longbottom wouldn't mind if she studied in Greenhouse One. She spread her books and notes over the cleanest table and began to read about the properties of Devil's Snare, which they would be visiting in Greenhouse Three on Tuesday.

... _this plant has the ability to kill a person; if they relax, the process is slower, but if they struggle, Devil's Snare will bind them all the more tightly..._

Rose shuddered and turned back to the page on Flitterblooms. It was cold in the Greenhouse, and the rain beat down heavily on the glass roof, making a splattering sound. She pushed her hair, damp from the rain, behind her ears.

Eventually she slammed the Herbology book shut and turned to her other homework. It was mostly easy stuff. She reviewed her notes on Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball, turned her pencil into a magnificent quill pen and back again, practiced casting the Wand-Lighting Charm for Defense Against the Dark Arts and the Hover Charm for Charms, and wrote a nine-inch essay on the twelve uses of dragon's blood for Potions. When she was done, the sky was beginning to grow darker. Rose went over to one of the cupboards, found several candles, and lit them. She could hear the clock tower chiming eight; she had missed dinner.

It was cold and still wet. She shivered, and opened her Herbology book again to read about Devil's Snare again.

... _Devil's Snare fears heat and light; the best way to repel its touch is by using the Fire-Making Spell (incantation: Incendio). Other spells producing light or heat may also be used (Wand-Lighting Charm, Bluebell Flames, Blasting Curse, etc.)..._

"Could use some of that right now," muttered Rose. Her breath came out in little puffs of steam.

  She glanced around the greenhouse; picking up one of her candles, she went to where one plant hung in a pot from the ceiling and examined a tendril. It was green and vinelike, but also strangely cold and damp, and a little slimy. She had no idea what it was.

It was still cold, even colder now, and suddenly Rose felt something touch her hand. She tried to jerk her hand away, but her arm didn't move. Horrified, Rose looked down and saw that the other tendrils of the potted plant had wrapped around her arms and chest without her even noticing.

She screamed and pulled at the vines, but they merely tightened around her. It was beginning to get hard to breathe. Her wand was on the table, and she took several steps away from the plant, towards her wand, before it snapped her back to the place she had been standing, like a plucked string.

"Accio Wand!" she shouted desperately, hoping that by some miracle the Summoning incantation would bring her her wand, but nothing happened.

Suddenly the door to the Greenhouse opened, and Norah stood there, eyes wide. "Rose!" she exclaimed. "I was on my way to visit my dad, and I heard screaming!"

"Help me!" shrieked Rose. "I don't know what plant this is, and I can't breathe!" The end of her sentence came out as a breathy squeak as the vines wrapped even more tightly around her chest.

"I don't know if I can," said Norah, but she raised her wand and said firmly, " _Relashio_!"

The vines loosened for a moment, but then they were back again, tighter than ever.

"I think it must be Devil's Snare," said Norah, sounding like she was about to cry.

"Light!" gasped Rose. Her lungs felt very small, and a black haze was creeping around the edges of her vision.

"Oh, right. _Lumos_!"

The plant shrank a little, and as Norah advanced with her wand lit, it scurried away from the light. Rose felt the bonds around her legs begin to retract a little, but the vines around her chest contracted in response.

"Spell, in... reading," she choked. "Fire. Try... incantation Incendio."

Norah glanced at her wand doubtfully. "I'm not sure I can do it," she said. "Should I run and get Dad?" She held her wand higher, closer to Rose's chest.

"No, he's all the way past Greenhouse Seven. I'll be dead before you get back," said Rose quickly, as the vines loosened a little. She coughed. "Just try the spell. If we break something, there's always _Reparo_."

"That's true," agreed Norah. "Okay. Um, _Incendio_."

A thin jet of golden flame flew from the tip of her wand, then sizzled out to nothing.

"You can do it," wheezed Rose, as the vines squeezed her chest again. She heard a muffled snapping sound, and her chest suddenly began to ache. "Ow. Rib."

Norah's eyes widened, and suddenly her face became resolute. She took a stronger stance, pointed her wand at the Devil's Snare, and said firmly and clearly, " _Incendio_!"

The golden flames burst from her wand to caress the vines, and the vines curled away from the heat and light, shrinking as they went. Rose felt the vines relax, and suddenly she was able to stumble away from the plant, towards her school books.

"Gather up your things and edge out behind me," said Norah, keeping the Devil's Snare at bay with the golden flames. "I've got this."

Her voice was so confident that Rose, with her aching chest and tired eyes and no idea what any of the plants in the room were other than the one that had almost killed her, felt a little jealous and extremely sad. She put her things into her bookbag and slung it over her shoulder, then left the Greenhouse, backing out with Norah in front of her, warding away the Devil's Snare with the golden flames. Norah ended the spell and closed the door behind her.

"You should go to the hospital wing," she said, turning to look at Rose.

Rose opened her mouth to say that yes, she probably should, but her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she turned away, embarrassed.

"Rose? What's wrong?" said Norah, bewildered.

"I'm so tired, and my chest hurts because my rib might be broken and I'm terrible at Herbology and my roommates are horrible and I can't make friends very well and I miss my p-p-parents-" Rose began to sob, huge wild sobs that hurt her chest even more.

Norah stood there for a moment, then said softly, "Remember how on the train when I was crying you helped me feel better?"

Rose nodded, sniffling.

"Well, that was you making friends. And I know you don't much like Scorpius, but he's probably okay with being your friend if you let him. Now this is what we're going to do. I'm going to take you up to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey will fix you right up. Then we're going to walk back down and have a chat with my dad about Herbology and about managing and he will probably feed us, because you look like you haven't eaten dinner yet and I skipped dinner to help Albus with that Potions essay. Does that sound okay?"

Rose nodded.

Norah put her arm around Rose's waist and took the bookbag and slung it over her own shoulder. "You probably shouldn't carry this," she said kindly.

They walked into the castle and up the stairs, then made their way to the infirmary.

"Can I help you?" said Madam Pomfrey. She was getting older and quite crotchety on rainy nights like tonight, where rheumatism made her bones ache.

"My friend was in Greenhouse One studying and I guess some Devil's Snare got in there, and it broke her rib," said Norah. Rose wondered how shy Norah had the courage to talk to Madam Pomfrey so openly.

Madam Pomfrey squinted over her spectacles. "You're Neville's girl, aren't you?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Treated that boy more often than all the students in his year combined, except maybe Potter," mumbled Madam Pomfrey, getting up. "Well, come here, girl. I'll set you right."

Rose went forwards and sat on the first cot. Madam Pomfrey tapped her wand on Rose's chest to look for the broken rib. A section of her shirt began to glow blue.

"Not broken, just a hairline fracture," said Madam Pomfrey briskly. "Good thing, too, because a really broken rib might have had to send you to St. Mungo's or to stay here overnight. _Episkey_."

Suddenly the pain in her chest vanished. Rose relaxed.

"Stay there for a moment while I check your medical records," ordered Madam Pomfrey. Norah tapped the older woman on the shoulder and whispered in her ear. "Oh? Oh, all right." The older woman went to her desk and began rummaging in the cupboards.

Norah grinned and sat down. "My dad knows her very well," she said confidentially. "And Frankie's very pretty, but she's an accident waiting to happen. She's broken about half the bones in her body. So I've been here several times, even before I started school."

Rose tried to smile, but she just didn't feel like it.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a bar of Honeydukes chocolate. "Usually this is for dementor attack victims, but we haven't had a dementor around here since the Wizarding War. Don't worry, though, it's fresh. Norah tells me you've been a bit depressed." She handed Rose the chocolate bar and returned to her desk.

"Really, have some," said Norah. "You look like you could use it."

Rose sighed and opened the chocolate bar. She didn't see how some candy was going to help her feel better.

But it did, for all that; it had a sort of warming effect, that went from her chest to her fingers and her toes. Rose half-smiled. Norah reached over, broke off a small piece, and popped it into her mouth.

"See? Much better," said Norah approvingly.

"All right, your paperwork's done, you may go," called Madam Pomfrey grumpily. Norah stood up, and Rose followed.

"Now, you're going to come have tea and probably supper with me and Dad," said Norah firmly, walking over to the staircase. "And if Frankie's there, you will be outshone with a vengeance, but I promise you it doesn't hurt that much."

Rose hesitated. "I don't want to be a nuisance-"

"You're not a nuisance. If anything, that title belongs to me. Now come on."

Rose made no more objections. She was just tired and hungry, and tea and supper with the Longbottoms sounded nice, after all.

Norah led her to a small wooden house just off Greenhouse Seven, and knocked on the door.

"Well, hello, Norah," said Professor Longbottom, peering at his daughter through the rain. "And who's this with you? Oh, hello, Miss Weasley. Come in, come in. It's absolutely miserable out there."

Rose shyly followed Norah in.

"Have a seat," said Professor Longbottom. "Frankie can't make it, I'm afraid. She has a paper for Charms she's been putting off, and she decided to get that done. So it's just you and me, girls. Heavens bless, but Miss Weasley, you're damp through."

Rose sneezed, and she could almost feel the tears coming again.

"She was studying in Greenhouse One," said Norah, "and apparently you left some Devil's Snare in there."

"Did I? Oh, I suppose I did. I really have to write things down, or I forget them. Frances takes after her mother in that respect, but you're a little like me, Norah."

"Anyway, Rose was just about on the verge of death, but I heard her yelling on my way down to see you so I went in and we figured out how to make it back off," said Norah, determined to continue the story, "so I took her up to the hospital wing and she's as healthy as ever but she hasn't eaten since lunch, so if you could help us in the way of victuals we would very much appreciate it."

Professor Longbottom laughed, and began to rummage in the cupboards behind his desk. "Clear the desk off, would you Norah," he said, his voice muffled.

Norah began to move piles of things onto some of the chairs and counters around the sides of the room. Professor Longbottom's wand hand reached up and pointed at the fire, and suddenly the flames became much warmer. Rose shivered.

" _Xerotherma_ ," he added, pointing the wand tip at her, and suddenly her clothes and hair and skin were as dry and warm as if they had just come out of the Hogwarts laundry. "Incidentally, Norah, which spell did you use to help Miss Weasley get away with her life?"

"There was one in the book she told me to try," said Norah. " _Incendio_."

  "Fire-Making Spell. I'm glad you were able to perform that one," said Professor Longbottom, emerging from his cupboards with a cheerful red-checkered tablecloth and a vase of wildflowers, both of which he placed on the now-empty desktop. "Because although Lumos stops it from growing, Incendio is the only one that really works for actual repulsion. Frankly, the level of that spell is higher than first-year. Both you and Frankie got your mother's knack with a wand. They teach it to you in about January, although I tell you about it next week, and usually nobody masters it until second year. Think you can do it again, without burning my house down?"

Norah pointed her wand at the fire and said, " _Incendio_."

The golden flames burst from her wand again, but this time in a thinner stream, feeding the fire directly. It burned brighter and hotter.

"Gold flames," said Professor Longbottom. "That's unusual. Miss Weasley, do you think you could see if you get a different color?"

Norah pulled her wand away, and Rose took out her wand. She pointed it at the fire. " _Incendio_."

Her flames were sapphire blue, spiraling into the fire.

"Fascinating," said Professor Longbottom, watching the fire. Rose ended the spell. "I didn't think the spell personalized itself by color."

"Maybe it's just us, because we're younger," suggested Rose.

"That could very well be. In the meantime, let's eat."

They looked at the desktop. While they had been playing with the fire, a whole dinner had appeared there: a roast chicken with a pot of gravy on the side, peas and onions and mushrooms, stuffing, roast potatoes, rolls and butter and marmalade, and a steaming teapot. Rose wasn't sure if it had been sent by the house-elves in the kitchens or if Professor Longbottom had Summoned it from the castle.

"Set to," said Professor Longbottom, and they ate. Rose could have torn through the whole meal, but she paced herself and ate politely, because it would have been embarrassing to eat like a wild wolf.

"Now, if you had just taken Miss Weasley to the infirmary and then come back yourself, that would have been normal," said Professor Longbottom suddenly. "But you brought her with you. Why is that, Norah?"

Norah looked at Rose, who suddenly felt very small. She looked down at her plate, feeling her ears turning red.

"Rose is having some trouble with Herbology," said Norah hesitantly.

"Miss Weasley has stayed after class several times to inform me of this. I know, and I do try to help," said Professor Longbottom kindly. "There's something else, too. Isn't there?"

"My roommates hate me," said Rose flatly, "and I don't get any sleep because of it."

"Ah." Professor Longbottom nodded, then said thoughtfully, "Your mother was one of my best friends at Hogwarts."

Norah and Rose both listened attentively as they ate.

"And your mother was an incredibly talented witch. She could do the Incendio spell her first year, too. She led the class consistently, every year. But she was one of my best friends, and I got very poor marks in just about everything except for Herbology. I was a dunce at Potions and while I did okay at most of the other subjects, I didn't much like them except that some of the spells were meant to be useful to me in Herbology. But I, much like you, was the outcast in a room of five."

"You never told me that," said Norah.

"It wasn't really important to me," said Professor Longbottom with a shrug. "There was Harry and Ron on the one hand, and Seamus and Dean on the other hand, and I had no best friend. Of course, it was entirely unintentional on the part of the other boys, and they were great, when they remembered to be. But Hermione Granger was the best friend I had. She helped me out in Potions a lot."

Rose felt a sense of pride suddenly, a sense of pride in her mother. She was glad she was the daughter of Hermione Granger.

"And she was a loner, too," said Professor Longbottom with a chuckle. "She roomed with four other girls, none of whom she was particularly close to. Her best friends were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She didn't much like the girls in her room, either."

And Rose remembered that, from when her mother had told her about Hogwarts and having roommates. She smiled a little bit.

"So I would recommend that you don't try to befriend them if they hate you, which I doubt they actually do," said Professor Longbottom. "I think it more likely that they are jealous of you."

"Jealous? Of me? How?" said Rose, bemused.

"You're pretty, and you're smarter than all of them at just about everything, and you're nice and you're friends with older girls and with Albus, who's famous for being Harry Potter's son," said Norah at once.

"And you learn spells faster than the girls in your House, don't you?" said Professor Longbottom. "I would guess that that's part of it, anyways."

They were both smiling at her, and Rose felt her heart warming a little bit more.

"As for the amount of sleep you get, I suggest that you see Madam Pomfrey about sleeping habits. She may give you a potion to drink every night, and I'm sure Norah could help you with the recipes. If it's a herbal remedy, I can probably help you with it, and I'm sure you can figure out any wandwork on your own."

Rose felt a sense of relief come over her, and also a very slight sense of self-chagrin. If she hadn't been so tired and hungry and ill, she could have seen that talking to Madam Pomfrey first would have been the smartest thing to do. She sighed and said gratefully, "Thank you, Professor Longbottom."

"Oh, you're welcome. I owe your mother, anyway. Without her, I might not have passed my third, fourth, and fifth years at Hogwarts." Professor Longbottom stood up, rummaged in the cupboard again, and withdrew a pound cake. "Dessert, anyone?"

"Ooh, me," said Norah. Rose smiled and held her plate out as Professor Longbottom placed a plump triangle of cake on her plate, and a dollop of whipped cream on top of it. It had been a while since she had eaten cake. It was a lovely feeling.

Rose and Norah walked back to the castle. It had finally stopped raining, and the grass was wet, but Rose didn't mind.

"Do you think you'll be okay?" said Norah, when they got to the Great Hall.

Rose thought about it, then said cheerfully, "I'll be just fine once I go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Rose, if you ever need anything, tell me. If you need Herbology help or Potions help or someone to study with or just someone to talk to about how awful your roommates are, you can always tell me."

Rose looked at Norah, whose eyes were serious and kind, both at once.

"You have other friends," she said quietly.

"I do have other friends," admitted Norah, "but you were my first friend, you and Al, and even Scorpius, in a way. He's always very kind to me. But you were my first friend, and I don't forget that. My roommates are wonderful, but they aren't you. And you can always come and hang out in the Hufflepuff common room if you want. They usually study in the evenings anyways, and I study during the day. Nobody will mind you."

"Thank you," said Rose sincerely. She was touched. "I appreciate the offer."

"Absolutely," said Norah. "Any time."

They smiled at each other, and Rose knew that they were true friends.

At ten p.m., sitting in her bed with the curtains closed, Rose had her lap desk out. Her roommates were giggling and laughing about something, and the sound had a comfortableness to it that she hadn't noticed before. She probably wasn't a huge part of their lives anyway. She was working on a letter home. 

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I am doing very well. I haven't been writing you as often as I ought, but I've been very_ _busy trying to keep up with homework and with staying ahead in classes. Also, I may_ _have to give in and purchase an owl next year, for I don't often get up to the Owlery to_ _send my letters. I like all my classes, and even though I have problems with Herbology, Professor Longbottom has been very helpful in teaching me when I've gone wrong. Albus_ _is well, and so are all the cousins. Professor Longbottom's daughter Norah is probably_ _my best friend along with Albus, and she is an absolute whiz at Potions. The Potions_ _professor is a horrible woman. Her name is Professor Lympsham. She was in your year,_ _I think. I miss you and Hugo, but I am learning to love it here. I learned how to do some extracurricular spells, and I like knowing how to dry my hair in the morning after I_ _shower so that I don't spend the whole day with wet hair. That's usually not a good thing._ _I like the food here, it's delicious. I don't like my roommates very much, but I only really_ _have to sleep with them and keep my room neat. I can spend my free time with Norah_ _and Albus, even though Albus usually brings along his friend Scorpius, who I do not like_ _at all. Enclosed is a bright blue pebble I found on the walk to the Quidditch pitch when_ _Al and I went to watch James try out for Gryffindor Chaser. Hugo may have it if he likes._ _James made the team, and he is one of the youngest Chasers ever. He is very good, and_ _I look forwards to cheering for him in the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match on the Saturday_ _of Halloween. Norah says she doesn't mind me rooting for James, because she thinks_ _that the Hufflepuff team isn't terribly good anyways. They aren't, but there's one girl who is very good. Her name is Lin Wood. She is a prefect, and James and Fred told Al that_ _she's Oliver Wood's daughter. I think Fred likes her, because she's very pretty and nice_ _and also because when I walked up to the Gryffindor common room on a Hogsmeade day_ _I saw Fred and Lin walking down to the village and they were holding hands. And then_ _when I asked James about it he got grumpy and said it was none of his business what_ _Fred did, and that he hoped that he wasn't "too wrapped up in his woman to forget my_ _request list of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes supplies." Apparently, WWW has taken_ _Zonko's out of business. I can't wait until I'm old enough to go to Hogsmeade. I think it_ _will be a lot of fun. Anyway, it's getting late and I have to go to bed, so I love you and_ _good night!_

_Love, Rose_

_P.S. Tell Hugo that if he keeps trying to break into my room, the spell I put on the door_ _will change drastically and for the worse. Just kidding. But seriously, Hugo, don't go_ _in my room._

Rose finished her letter, folded it up, and sealed it. She climbed down into her trunk and placed the letter on top of the outfit she planned to wear the next day. Astronomy had been canceled because of the rain, so she would have more time to sleep. She reached into the pocket of her pajamas and took out a small vial with a few drops of a potion in it. Madam Pomfrey had given it to her, as well as the recipe. She would start working on it the next day; it was a complicated recipe. She swallowed the potion, climbed out of her trunk, got into bed, and pulled the covers over her head. She was asleep within moments.

 

_There was a face, flickering pale against the firelight. Albus squinted, but he couldn't see who it was. He floated forwards and looked closer. He knew that face!_

_Suddenly he was shoved backwards, into a series of fragments of his memories of the stories that his father had told him about the Wizarding War. There was camping in the woods and running and fire and explosions and then, suddenly, there was blackness._

_But he heard a voice._

_"Astoria, I don't understand." The voice was a man's voice, worried and harsh. "He's dead. He's dead, and I have renounced the old ways. Why does it burn?"_

_"Don't worry about it," said a woman's voice, a soft, quiet voice. "Go back to sleep, Draco. Please."_

_"I can't sleep," said the man again, but this time he sounded pained. "Surely my father and mother feel it too, and perhaps Gregory Goyle and Anastasia Selwyn and old Beryl Rosier and even Dolores Umbridge, if she's not a rotting corpse in her Azkaban cell."_

_"You can check and be sure tomorrow, love."_

_Suddenly Albus could see the man and the woman, and he knew them. Draco Malfoy sat on the edge of a large, ornate bed, his head in his hands, and the woman, who had to be Scorpius's mother, sitting up in bed and watching her husband._

_Suddenly, Draco said, "I have to talk to Potter, too."_

_"If you don't want to, you don't have to," said the woman gently._

_"I have to, Astoria. If his scar burns the way my Mark is burning, then I'll know there is a terrible problem. I don't understand."_

_"The Dark Lord is dead, Draco. He cannot harm you."_

_"That's precisely what worries me, Astoria. If we are all feeling the burning of the Dark Mark upon our skins, then someone may have unleashed the sort of power that the Dark Lord possessed during his lifetime. And I don't worry about myself. I worry for you and for Scorpius."_

_"Draco-"_

_"If it is a really terrible threat, then I will withdraw Scorpius from the school and we will run for it. If it is a false alarm, you have my apologies." Draco stood up and put on a dressing gown._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"I have to talk to Potter tonight. I can Apparate to Godric's Hollow."_

_"It's three in the morning, my love, they'll think you mad."_

_"Perhaps I am a little mad," said Draco Malfoy. He looked at his wife, then sighed. "I used to hate him so much. Potter, I mean. I don't hate him anymore, Astoria, and now I seek his help."_

_"It's because you aren't competing anymore," said Astoria quietly, from her place on the bed. "You don't even compete in your work. He's an Auror, and you are wealthy. You don't have any reason to hate him."_

_"I had better take some money, just in case." Draco strode over to a seemingly bare wall, flicking his wand at it as he went forwards. A shiny silver door materialized in the wall. Draco spun the handle and flicked his wand at it again. It swung open. Draco went in and came back out, a small sack of Galleons in his hand._

_"Don't wait up for me, Astoria," he said quietly, and then he Disapparated with a pop._

_Astoria snorted. "Don't wait up, indeed," she said, and got out of bed. "You'll be soaking when you get back, it's raining in Godric's Hollow. Someone has to make you some tea and dry you off, and it's not worth it to wake the servants at this hour." She left the ornate bedroom, and Albus felt the whole world fading to black before his eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that Rose had no spell experience before she received her wand and began attending Hogwarts; she takes the opportunity to find useful spells and learn them whenever she can. She has Hermione's talent and Ron's tenacity and it's easy to imagine her as a small prodigy.
> 
> Isn't Claire horrid? I just hate her so, so much. She's deliciously evil to write.
> 
> But Rose isn't perfect, by any means- all of them have at least a little weakness. Norah's fantastic at Potions and Herbology, but she's not so great at Transfiguration. Albus is the best at Transfiguration, but he's not good at paying attention in History of Magic, like Rose is. Scorpius pays attention because he likes history and Norah draws her notes instead of writing them. Rose is great at Charms and really everything, but she sucks at Herbology. Scorpius is talented at DADA but he's not very good at Charms or Potions.
> 
> Hello cameos! Draco and Astoria's relationship can be further explored in a fic I wrote about them which is not really a prequel to this fic but could be considered one seeing as how they exist in the same universe.


	5. Quidditch and Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus and the gang watch their first game of school Quidditch and Albus discovers who Scorpius's bullies are.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God..."

Albus opened his eyes, blinked several times, squinted, and stared blearily at James, who was seated at the foot of his bed. James's arms were wrapped around his knees, and he was in his crimson Quidditch robes with gloves and boots on. He was staring off into the distance.

"You are in my room," said Albus to James, "and you are sitting on my bed." He reached over to the endtable and pushed his glasses onto his face.

"Oh, God," said James again.

"And you are fully dressed, at-" Albus glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece. "-seven-thirty in the morning, on a Saturday, for a Quidditch match that will not be taking place for another three hours."

"Oh, God."

"And how long, precisely, have you been sitting on my bed, mumbling the same appeal to a deity that may or may not exist over and over again?"

"Merlin's almighty pants, then," said James, and he smiled wanly at Albus, who grinned.

"There, I knew I could get you to smile. Have you eaten, oh prodigal Chaser?"

"I don't think I could eat if you paid me," said James.

"You eat so much that you ought to do the paying. Come on. You need to eat." Albus got up and quickly dressed, then put his Gryffindor scarf on around his neck and pulled his brother out of the room.

"Thank God he's leaving," called Quincey McLaggen sleepily. "I've been sitting here for an hour listening to him chatter at you."

"Shut up, McLaggen, I listen to you snore for most of the night," was Albus's good-natured reply.

He led James downstairs to the Great Hall and made him eat eggs and toast and bacon and sausage and orange juice. James took small bites and played with his food. His face was pale and sweaty, and he looked like he was going to throw up.

"Merlin's pants, you're in a right state," remarked Fred, sitting down next to James. He, too, wore his Quidditch robes. "Guess what? It's time to prove to the Slytherins who have been calling nepotism on me all year that I did not pick you just because you were my cousin. Especially that little slimeball of a Gilbert Shaye."

"What does Lin say about it?" snapped James. His hands were shaking.

Fred's face darkened, and he said with a sort of calm dignity, "I'm going to forgive that, because you are clearly extremely nervous for your first Quidditch match. You're going to do just fine, by the way. You're a fantastic Chaser."

"I know I'm a fantastic Chaser," retorted James. "I'm just afraid I'm going to throw up, and I'm afraid that it's going to land on Professor Mycroft, or worse, Meghan Finnegan. That would be a disaster."

"If you throw up on me I will hex you," said Meghan, sitting down quite calmly across from James and serving herself pancakes. "And if you must throw up on anyone, which is a disgusting idea anyway, please aim for Professor Lympsham." They all laughed.

"I was going to not eat, so I wouldn't ralph it all up, but Albus made me, so if anyone gets ralphed upon, let it be known here and now that the ralphing is all Al's fault," said James.

"Albus was right. Never go into the pitch on an empty stomach," said Fred approvingly. "Fainting and falling off your broom is a lot more dangerous than puking up what you've eaten."

Albus saw Rose and Norah hurrying to their table. A lot of Hufflepuffs looked askance at Norah, but she ignored them and patted James on the back. "Good luck, James," she said timidly.

"Thanks," croaked James. "If I die out there, tell my mother I loved her. Right up until she told me to try out for Quidditch."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Don't be an idiot, James. You're a fantastic Quidditch player and while you aren't the youngest Quidditch player in the school's history, you are pretty young. Be proud of that, instead of whining about how nervous you are."

 "That honor has rather stuck with Dad," said James, smiling half-heartedly again. "And Al didn't nick it, either, so apparently Lils will have to become the world's tiniest Keeper when she gets to come to school." He paled and gulped, then let out a nervous moan and buried his head in his arms on the table.

All of the Weasley and Potter clans were gathered around James, in addition to Norah, Frankie, and Rory and Meghan Finnegan. "Really, James, you're going to do fine," said Dominique bracingly.

"I think I called you Jamie when we were little," mused Victoire, "and now you're a Gryffindor Chaser. It makes me feel really old, and I'm only seventeen."

"Don't do anything Freddie wouldn't do," said Roxanne pertly. Fred shot her a look that clearly said, _You're not helping,_ and she beamed at him in response.

"Good luck," added Frankie Longbottom. Meghan patted him on the back.

Everyone shook James's hand. The rest of the Quidditch team was gathering up. Fred Weasley stood, and Albus could see the instant change in him, from jokester to captain. "All right, James," he said quietly. "Let's go."

A thin hand poked Albus's shoulder, and he turned. It was Scorpius. "Would you mind if I sat with you during the match?" he said quietly, folding his hands behind his back. "Some of my House-mates are very anti-Gryffindor, so much so, that they are, in this instance, pro-Hufflepuff, and I won't feel at liberty to root for your brother if I sit with them."

"Absolutely," said Albus.

A memory of a memory, something he was supposed to tell Scorpius, lurked in the back of his mind, but he pushed it resolutely away. "I think Rose is going to sit with us too. Norah wants to sit with her house, though, and frankly I don't blame her. She says she supports us in spirit, though."

Scorpius smiled faintly. "I may stick around for a while before the match. I would rather not return to my common room at present." He glanced behind him, then clenched his wand and turned back.

"I know a few good hexes now," offered Albus, who had been reading up on prank spells. James had begun to hex him with regularity, and although Albus could usually dodge the spells, he had learned a few for a joke on James. He peered past Scorpius, who was almost four inches taller than he was. Several larger Slytherins were watching Scorpius, cracking their knuckles menacingly.

"Don't waste a perfectly good jinx on those," said Rose scornfully, joining them. "They're about as intelligent as gorillas."

"Even those gorillas know how to make life unpleasant for the runt of the litter," said Scorpius dryly. "I promise not to sit next to you, Rose Weasley, if you promise not to glare at me and complain about unwanted guests. Is that too much to ask?"

"It might be," murmured Albus. "Also, since when were you the runt of the litter? You're four inches taller than me."

"As long as you don't sit by me, Scorpius Malfoy, I have not the slightest preference in the world as to where it is you are sitting, and it could be in the very heart of the Forbidden Forest for all I care," said Rose airily, ignoring Albus.

The three of them walked out to the pitch in a crowd of other Gryffindors, all trying to get good seats. All of the Weasley-Potter clan, that were not on the team, including Victoire and Dominique, had a small group of seats in the very heart of the Gryffindor section. Albus sat between Rose and Scorpius, who nodded awkwardly to Roxanne, on his other side.

It was a cold, crisp, clear morning. The trees of the Forbidden Forest, behind Hagrid's hut and overlooking the lake, were brilliant scarlet and gold ("Gryffindor colors, a sure sign we'll win," joked Albus) and there were only a few mare's-tail clouds in the azure sky. Albus had his jacket on under his robes, and he offered his Gryffindor scarf to Scorpius, who was shivering.

"N-no thanks," said Scorpius politely, with chattering teeth.

Rose let out a loud sigh, removed a jar from her jeans pocket (Albus was absolutely sure by now that she had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on it) pointed her wand into it, and said, " _Incendio Endymion_."

A series of flames that looked like small, blossoming bluebells erupted from her wand into the jar, and she screwed the lid on and handed it over to Scorpius. There were tiny holes in the lid, and hot air steamed out of them. He took the jar and hunched over with it in his lap. "Thank you," he said to Rose, his voice muffled by his arms.

"You're welcome," she said curtly, turning away.

Albus sighed to himself.

The teachers were filing into the tower where they usually sat to watch Quidditch. Albus could see Professor Mycroft sitting in the first row. Professor Creevey good-naturedly shook hands with Professor Cauldwell, the Muggle Studies teacher and Head of Hufflepuff House. He also saw a student in the tower, with a small wooden box in front of him. He looked vaguely familiar. Albus polished his glasses and squinted at the figure. "Who's that?" he asked Rose.

"Rory Finnegan," she answered. "He announces the Quidditch games."

 And then suddenly Rory's Irish-colored drawl rolled out over the entire stadium. "Good mornin', Hogwarts, and welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season!"

A roar of excitement rose from everyone in the stadium.

"Today's opponents are Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff! Future games will be held every other Saturday for the remainder of the year. Next game will be between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and so on through the year. And now, I give you your referee, Professor Peakes!"

A burly man flew out into the stadium, waved briefly at everyone as he circled, and landed in the center of the pitch with the trunk containing the Quidditch balls. Albus remembered him from their Flying lessons. Rose grimaced at the sight of Professor Peakes; she was a decent flyer, but she hated the class. Scorpius was much the same; he had explained to Albus that he had a mild general distaste for Quidditch because the only position his father would want him to play would be Seeker, and therefore he had chosen to dislike Quidditch. Norah was an average flyer and she enjoyed it, but she was afraid of even playing two-a-side Quidditch with Albus, Scorpius, and Rose.

"And now, the Hufflepuff team! Captain and Keeper, Nyla Christensen! Chasers, Jennifer O'Malley, Lin Wood, and Ryan Simonsen! Beaters, Bruce Jones and Harrison Madley! And Seeker Marlowe Bones!"

Albus squinted at the Seeker. Marlowe Bones was a short, skinny red-headed boy with sharp, gooseberry-green eyes. His eyes were already darting around, as though the Snitch had been released. "He's probably pretty good," he said to Scorpius, pointing. Scorpius shrugged.

"And now, the Gryffindor team! Keeper Elliott Coote! Chasers, Chrissy LaRue, Brendan Chifferdon, and James Potter! Beaters, Captain Fred Weasley and Emmaline Quinstone! And Seeker Melanie Schwartz!"

Albus studied all of them. Elliott Coote was very good at his job, and so were Chrissy and Brendan. James looked nervous as far as he could tell, but Albus knew what James was capable of. Fred had been made Captain for his talent, but Emmaline Quinstone looked like a tiny blonde fairy with an oversized bat. And Melanie Schwartz had her eyes closed as she flew out onto the pitch; Albus had overheard Fred Weasley complaining about her one day at breakfast: "I wish I could have picked anybody else. Really, anybody would have done, but nobody else even tried out! I mean, Grandma Molly could do a better job!"

Albus winced as he watched her fly; she was fast enough, but in the way that a grizzly bear or a blue whale was fast: she was tall and broad-shouldered, and stronger than she was faster. She would have made an excellent Beater.

Nyla Christensen and Fred tossed for possession of the Quaffle; Gryffindor won, and the Gryffindor Chasers looked at each other and nodded to themselves.

"Make it a fair game," called Professor Peakes, his sharp voice ringing through the pitch. He released the Bludgers and the Snitch. Albus caught a glimpse of the Snitch for a moment, but then it vanished. Professor Peakes lifted the Quaffle into the air, then threw it high.

 "And we're off!" shouted Rory Finnegan. "And it's Chifferdon with the Snitch, good Lord his name is three syllables so we're just going to call him Chiff. Chiff passes to LaRue- nice Bludger dodge there by Chrissy LaRue, and LaRue to Potter. Let's see how good Potter is, he's just a second year, and that's quite a gamble considering the number of Quidditch players in Gryffindor House- but Merlin's beard, look at him go!"

Albus stood up before anyone else and shouted, "GO, JAMES!" as loudly as he could. The other Gryffindors, shocked but pleased, joined him in cheering. James was a red-and-gold streak, swerving through and around and under the Hufflepuffs, all of whom seemed to think him an easy mark. Harrison Madley sent a Bludger zooming towards him, but James rolled, still clutching the Quaffle, and it missed. Emmaline Quinstone smacked the Bludger right back at Madley, who had to dive to avoid it. Now Albus saw why Fred had placed her as a Beater; she had terrific aim and could hit a Bludger as hard as Fred could have hit it himself.

"Potter to Chiff, Chiff back to Potter, Potter to LaRue, LaRue to Chiff, Chiff to Potter, Potter to LaRue, LaRue to Chiff- Merlin's beard, this is hard to follow- Chiff to Potter, and-"

Albus and the whole Gryffindor section stood up and began to yell wildly as James sent the Quaffle soaring through the leftmost goalpost, Nyla Christensen just barely missing it.

"Ten points to Gryffindor! First goal of the season scored by James Potter! That was absolutely amazing! See, Slytherin, Weasley didn't put Potter in just because he's family after all! That is some real talent, you slimy, self-centered scumbag sleaze!"

"Mr. Finnegan, the match, if you please," said Professor Mycroft patiently.

"Sorry, Professor. Hufflepuff in possession, Wood with the Quaffle. Wood to O'Malley, O'Malley to Simonsen- and Simonsen takes a Bludger to the side from Weasley, Quaffle dropped and caught by Potter. Potter to LaRue, LaRue to Chiff- and another ten points to Gryffindor!"

Albus and Rose jumped up and down and cheered. Scorpius watched them, smiling but not laughing, and the other Gryffindors were shouting and cheering too.

"Twenty to zero Gryffindor, Hufflepuff in possession, O'Malley with the Quaffle. Nice Bludger dodge from Emmaline Quinstone, and O'Malley to Wood. Wood streaks up the line- but she's no match for Potter! What a nifty little steal that was! Potter to Chiff, Chiff to LaRue- and that's thirty points to Gryffindor!"

"It's like they're professionals!" said Rose. "I mean, James and Chrissy and Brendan. They're fantastic!"

Albus could see what she meant. The Gryffindor Chasers were like one person in three parts, throwing so fast you didn't know where the ball was until it was scored. And they could all score, which kept the rotation interesting. James was all about speed and stealth, sneaking up on someone and stealing the Quaffle in a foul-less move. He had practiced that one on Albus; Albus could remember so many times when he would be playing with some toy or other, and it would vanish from under his nose, and he would have no idea how it had happened until he found it in James's possession. And now he was stealing Quaffles instead of toys. Brendan was a powerful flyer, and it was hard to steal the Quaffle from him or make him drop it. It was rumored in Gryffindor Tower that he slept with a Quaffle in his arms so as to train himself not to drop it. And Chrissy was incredibly acrobatic in her flying; almost nothing could hit her when she had the Quaffle, or even when she didn't.

Seventy points to Gryffindor and twenty to Hufflepuff later, both of which were penalty shots that Elliott Coote had missed, Rose whispered to Albus, "Check out the Seekers."

Albus had to look around. Both Seekers were floating high above the pitch, hovering, searching. Although, Marlowe was doing more actual searching. Melanie was just hovering next to him, her eyes slightly vacant as she turned her head from place to place.

"And that's a hundred and ten to Gryffindor! One-ten to twenty Gryffindor. I'm sure we're all wondering where the Snitch is, but it's still an exciting game. Hufflepuff in possession, Simonsen with the Quaffle- avoids a Bludger from Quinstone, but he drops the Quaffle, caught by LaRue. LaRue to Chiff, Chiff to Potter, Potter to LaRue, LaRue to Potter, Potter to Chiff, Chiff to Potter, Potter to Chiff, Chiff to LaRue, LaRue to Chiff, Chiff to Potter, Potter to LaRue- a hundred twenty points to Gryffindor!"

In all reality, it was a boring game, thought Albus; what with no excitement in scoring; you always knew that if Gryffindor got possession, they would score. They were a well-oiled team. Fred and Emmaline would attempt to disable whichever Hufflepuff Chaser was in possession, although Fred showed a reluctance to hit Bludgers at Lin Wood. If said Chaser dropped the Quaffle, Chrissy or Brendan was there to catch it; if not, James stole it, and they made their merry way to the goalposts and scored. If, every now and then, Hufflepuff got as far as the Gryffindor goalposts, Elliott Coote would lazily catch the hastily thrown Quaffle and it would end up with James, Brendan, or Chrissy, who would inevitably score again. The only useless team member was Melanie Schwartz.

But just as Albus was thinking this, and just as Gryffindor scored their fifteenth goal, two streaks of red and yellow zoomed down from the sky. Melanie had spotted the Snitch, and Marlowe was on her tail. Instantly the Hufflepuff Beaters sent both Bludgers flying towards the Seekers, and Fred and Emmaline both swung for the same one. It went careening off towards the Ravenclaw student seating. The other Bludger grazed Melanie's left ear, and she panicked and suddenly braked, which caused Marlowe to collide violently with her back. Both of them tumbled off their broomsticks, but fortunately they were only about five feet above the ground.

"Oooh, that looks nasty," said Rose, wincing as Professor Peakes descended on the tangled heap that was more Melanie than Marlowe.

"Seekers are the most prone to injury," said Albus, shrugging. He felt sorry for poor, bigger, slower Melanie Schwartz, struggling to keep up with little, quick Marlowe, but at the same time he wished someone else was the Seeker.

"And the Snitch was definitely there, but naturally it's gone now. A penalty to... Marlowe Bones of Hufflepuff, evidently, for not paying more attention and fouling! That's a load of rubbish, in my opinion, but what can I say?"

"Finnegan, you're paid for your commentary, not your opinion," said Professor Mycroft crisply.

"Right, sorry, Professor. Chaser Brendan Chifferdon with the Quaffle for the penalty shot. And... that's one hundred and sixty points to Gryffindor!"

Scorpius clapped, but as he did so, he murmured to Albus, "Your Seeker is a little dazed. Her broom is going to unseat her if she's not careful."

Albus spotted Melanie, drifting at about forty feet around the pitch. One of her eyes was bruised, probably poked by her broom handle, and her flight was slightly curved because she was leaning to the left. The broomstick was beginning to buck, too, moving gently higher and lower and gradually increasing the amount it did this.

"One hundred seventy points to Gryffindor!" shouted Rory Finnegan. "If the Snitch were to be caught at this point, it would either be a tie, or Gryffindor would win!"

With a sudden start, Marlowe Bones zoomed across the field. Everyone turned to look, except for James, who snatched the Quaffle from a distracted Lin Wood and scored.

"One hundred eighty points to Gryffindor! And- I don't believe it- Bones has caught the Snitch! The game is over! A Gryffindor win, one hundred and eighty to one hundred seventy!"

Everyone stood up and began to yell. Gryffindor cheered the loudest, because they had won. Albus felt a surge of pride in his brother and in his house as the whole team, even a still-dazed Melanie, flew to surround James and clap him on the back.

"Why did he even bother?" wondered Rose cynically. "It was never going to be a Hufflepuff win."

"He just didn't want to be creamed," said Scorpius. "He was making the point margin really small. Gryffindor only won by ten points."

At this point, Melanie tumbled off her broom, and her broomstick zoomed away. Fortunately she only fell ten feet before Professor Peakes caught her with a spell and lowered her carefully to the ground.

"Poor girl," said Albus feelingly.

 "She's an idiot," said Rose bluntly. "Why would anyone as big as her try out for Seeker? If she knew anything about Quidditch at all, she wouldn't have bothered. She would make a much better Beater, or even a Chaser."

"I think the way Fred sees it, nobody else has as excellent a team of Chasers, so we can actually win without a Seeker this year," said Albus thoughtfully. "That's what I would do in his place."

Rose sniffed. "She's still a liability to the whole team. I mean, she can't even catch the Snitch without causing a massive pileup, and not even then."

"I would hardly call a pileup of two people massive," murmured Scorpius.

"She's what makes it massive," said Rose crisply.

Everyone filed into the castle, and Albus bid Rose and Scorpius good-bye as they all went off to separate Houses. A hand touched his arm lightly as he made for the stairs. It was Norah.

"Hi," said Albus. "Sorry about your team."

"Oh, that's all right," said Norah cheerfully. "Sorry your Seeker isn't the best Every Flavor Bean in the box."

Albus chuckled. "You got me there."

"Besides, Marlowe caught the Snitch. He's a pretty good Seeker, but according to Sunshine's older sister, Estelle, he's not the best. Best Seeker in the school right now is probably your cousin Dominique, for Ravenclaw."

"Oh, I forgot she was a Seeker." Albus made a face. Dominique was a very good Seeker. They would crush Slytherin, and then if Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff, which they probably would, and Gryffindor, which was still dicey, they would win the Cup... he sighed.

Norah smiled sympathetically at him. "Dear me, you boys always seem to have Quidditch on the brain."

"Sorry," said Albus. "I just- never mind. Do you want to come to the celebratory party up in Gryffindor common room? I don't think anybody would mind."

"Frankie would," said Norah with a smile. "So thank you, but no. I'm going to visit my dad, and then finish up my Charms homework and then get ready for the Halloween feast. See you!" She waved and walked away.

Albus smiled. There was something about Norah that he really appreciated, the fact that she knew that she would upset someone else by doing something perfectly harmless, and because she cared about that person she would sacrifice her own pleasure to make that person happy. She was incredibly unselfish. He walked upstairs to the common room.

James was the center of attention. Fred and the team and James were celebrating in the middle of the room, and even older girls were fawning on James. He seemed pleased, but not arrogant, about all the attention, and he wasn't changed enough by it to not replace some of the treats rustled up to the common room from Hogsmeade with Acid Pops and Cockroach Clusters and a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes specialty, Fred's Deluxe Ton-Tongue-Toffees. Albus always had to smile when he saw the wrappers for those candies. They had been named for Uncle Fred, who had died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred had also been named for Uncle Fred. In a way, the candies were also named after Fred II, because he had apparently eaten one as a baby when Uncle George wasn't home. Aunt Angelina had panicked and taken him to St. Mungos, before George arrived and set it right with a Tiny-Tongue-Taffy, the counter-charmed candy.

But Albus would congratulate James later. For now, he had some exploring to do.

He went up to his dormitory; it was deserted. He opened his trunk and rummaged through it until he found a silvery, silky cloth: the Invisibility Cloak. He swung it over himself and watched as he vanished.

He could hear footsteps, and the door of the dormitory burst open. Alaric and Phil burst in, then stopped, puzzled. "I could have sworn Albus came in just now," said Alaric. But Albus had light-footedly slipped past them out the open door and down the stairs.

He waded through the party and stopped at the Fat Lady's portrait, waiting. Suddenly it opened, and a group of third-year girls, including Frankie and Roxanne, vaulted inside. He climbed out, careful not to let his trainers show, and began his walk.

 Walking around the school, invisible and in broad daylight, was sort of exhilarating. He skipped around the hallways, and even managed to creep up on Ms. Norris and slam his foot down on her tail. She yowled loudly, and the ancient caretaker, Filch, appeared almost at once, brandishing his mop and ready to yell, but when he didn't see anyone, he began to mumble to himself about Peeves and other troublemakers.

Albus wandered through the halls and downstairs. He slipped into the Great Hall and watched the teachers decorating for the feast; the hovering candles were changed from white to orange, black, violet, and green by Professor Brocklehurst. Professor Creevey was Transfiguring empty salt and pepper shakers into live bats, which fluttered around the hall. Some of the other professors were carving the giant pumpkins that stood sentinel in the corners, grinning like ghouls. Several skeletons were being animated to sing ghostly songs in a little choir by Professor Hale, who stood alone and away from the other teachers. Albus drifted towards the teacher. He had a ghost of a memory that reminded him that he needed to look at Professor Hale more closely.

"Max!"

Professor Hale turned, and Albus realized with shock that he was the man who had been present in the first part of his odd dream a few weeks ago. The same pale, handsome face and pale eyes. Professor Hale looked tired, and a lot older than he had looked at the beginning of the semester.

Professor Creevey walked up to Professor Hale and said quietly, "Are you feeling better, Max?"

"You don't need to mother me, Dennis, I'm four years older than you," said Professor Hale with a wry smile.

 Albus realized that he was eavesdropping on a private conversation, and anyway he remembered that he had wanted to tell Scorpius about the dream. He hurried out of the Great Hall and headed for the dungeons. He wasn't entirely sure where the Slytherin common room was, but he had a hunch he could find it.

"-blood traitor," said a gruff, older voice. Albus stopped to listen.

"Just because I don't espouse your opinions does not make me a blood traitor," said Scorpius's voice clearly.

Albus changed directions at once, heading down a narrow side hall instead of the main hall he was on. He turned at the first corner and saw four older, bigger Slytherins surrounding Scorpius, whose nose was bleeding heavily.

"You associate with other blood traitors and half-bloods," snarled one of the Slytherins, an older girl with heavy eyebrows and hate-filled black eyes.

 "It seems to me that there's an inconsistency here," said Scorpius. His face was still possessed of that unnatural calmness, although Albus, beginning to know Scorpius, could tell that the other boy was fighting the urge to remain silent and take what the bullies would dish out. "Upon my arrival, I was beaten severely, but not for apparent blood treachery and a lack of desire to practice the Dark Arts- but for being the son of a turncoat. Tell me this, Bruna, or any of you with enough wits to think of an answer: what has changed since then?"

"Are you calling me stupid?" roared the heavy-browed girl.

 "I certainly am, Bruna Goyle," said Scorpius emotionlessly. "Even by the standards of a first-year, you are unnaturally thick. I know a girl who could beat you in any class, and she's in my year. Apparently pure blood doesn't indicate skill."

Bruna lunged, and Albus heard the crunch as her fist connected with Scorpius's jaw, which immediately sagged a little. "That will teach you to talk back, you little traitor scum!" She turned to the others. "Come on. That's not worth beating anymore."

"You're going to wish you hadn't said that," mumbled Albus, and pulling off his cloak with a flourish, he shouted, " _Stupefy_!"

The spell hit Bruna on the back of the head, and she went down. The other three Slytherins pulled out their wands, but Albus put the Cloak back on and flattened himself against the wall. Scorpius's eyes were wide, fixed on the place where Albus had disappeared.

Albus poked the tip of his wand out through the sleeve of the Cloak and whispered, " _Tarantallegra_."

The Slytherin he hit began to wobble as his legs jerked out in odd marching and skipping movements. While the other two were distracted and scrambling to get out of the way, Albus hit one with a Pimple Jinx and the other with a Tooth-Growing Spell, then hurried over to Scorpius, threw the Cloak over him as well, and led him away.

They walked in an invisible silence for some time, and then Scorpius said flatly, "How buch of dat did you hear?" His voice was clogged and hard to understand; the nosebleed and the broken jaw were doing their work.

"Enough," said Albus, "and why don't you hex them? You're pretty good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Better than me, even."

"Because it's dot defedig if I attack first." Scorpius gingerly brought his hands up to his face. "Great. Dow I cadt eat addythig at duh feast."

"Hospital wing," said Albus firmly, pulling Scorpius up the stairs.

"Doh! Thed they'll laugh at bee," protested Scorpius.

"That's what the hospital wing is _for_. You have a broken jaw and quite probably a broken nose, for heaven's sakes. Madam Pomfrey will fix it up and you can enjoy the feast."

"Because I cad todally edjoy the feast whed I'b sittig alode."

"Come sit with me," said Albus. "There's no rule against it. I eat breakfast with you every day."

"I dow that," said Scorpius, "but I thik that dobody at your table will thack you for it."

"You can just be your usual taciturn self, and nobody will mind because I'll tell them not to," said Albus. "I know you're a Slytherin, and that you were put there for a reason, and that those are the reasons anybody could give for you to not sit with the Gryffindors, but the real reason you were put in Slytherin is because you have a great deal of practical knowledge and cunning and because of your pride. Which in my opinion you don't have enough of, if you let older students beat you up without hexing them. And also in my opinion, Slytherin or Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff doesn't matter. I don't see some Slytherin kid getting beat up, so it's okay. I see someone getting picked on by older, bigger students. And that is dead wrong no matter what House you're in."

Scorpius was silent, but he allowed Albus to continue pulling him up the stairs, pulling the Cloak off and stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

Madam Pomfrey looked rather askance when she saw two boys walk into her office, one dripping blood from nose and mouth, the other still flushed with adrenaline, but she said nothing and instead fixed Scorpius up and cleaned the blood from his clothes.

"So why does a little scrap of a first-year have an Invisibility Cloak?" said Scorpius, as they walked through the hallways.

"Well, when my dad was at Hogwarts, he had some really cool toys," said Albus. "One was a map that showed the whole school and where everyone was within the school at any given time. It also showed seven secret passages out of the school, four of which are still functional. It was actually made by my grandfather James Potter and his friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. But anyway, it's really cool, and you can wipe it blank when you aren't using it, so it just looks like a piece of spare parchment. It's called the Marauder's Map, and James stole it out of my dad's desk last year. That's why he and my cousin Fred are so close, because my Uncle George used to own the map and he told Fred about it, and James and Fred use it all the time to sneak into Hogsmeade and buy food. One of the passages ends up in the cellar of Honeydukes."

"Neat," said Scorpius. "And the Cloak?"

Albus hesitated. He wasn't going to tell Scorpius about the Deathly Hallows just yet, but he had to say something. "This cloak has been in my family for a long time," he said. "It's a really good old Invisibility Cloak. My grandfather James had it, too, and then the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, borrowed it from him. Then Voldemort killed my grandfather, and Dumbledore kept the cloak until my dad was in his first year of Hogwarts. Then he sent it to him as a Christmas present. My dad used it a lot during school. He sneaked into Hogsmeade with it and found a magical mirror that Dumbledore was hiding from everyone and did a lot of cool things with it."

Scorpius stared at the Cloak, and then he said slowly, "My dad told my mum a story once, about one time he went to Hogsmeade, and he was with his friends and some weird things were happening, like mud and twigs hitting people for no reason. Then suddenly your dad's face appeared out of nowhere. It really freaked my dad out. I wasn't supposed to hear it, but I was eavesdropping."

"That sounds like my dad." Albus smiled. "I don't think my little sister, Lily, will get anything from Dad, but I think my mum has a few things for Lily."

Scorpius looked away, then said quietly, "I miss my mum."

They could hear the chatter of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws walking down the stairs behind them. "Must be time for the feast," said Albus, standing. They walked down the stairs and into the Great Hall, which was magnificently decorated, and took seats at the Gryffindor table.

James sat down on Scorpius's other side and said cheerfully, "I am just so ready to stuff myself full of food."

"Um, good job with Quidditch," said Scorpius, and Albus could hear a little hesitation in his voice, the kind that marked nervousness. Scorpius was rarely prone to nerves.

"Yeah," said Albus. "Seriously, James, you were great out there."

James beamed. "Thanks." He lowered his voice. "I feel really bad for Melanie. She's been up in her room crying the whole time since the match, and we don't have any reserve Seekers. It's a pity she's so awful at Quidditch."

"Isn't she a seventh-year?" said Roxanne, sitting down across from James.

"Yeah," said Fred gloomily, settling next to his sister. "Whoever told her to try out for Quidditch, I could cheerfully strangle them. Better to have no Seeker than to have one that screws up the whole game. We only won by ten points. Ravenclaw's going to steamroller Slytherin, because they have Dominique. Who's your Seeker, Malfoy?"

Albus glanced at Scorpius, who seemed surprised at being addressed in such a friendly manner. "Joshua Knisely," he said at last. "Tall, skinny seventh-year with horn-rimmed glasses. He's their Captain, too."

"Right on. I forgot they made him captain. And who're your Beaters?"

"Elyse Macnair and Bruna Goyle." Scorpius said the names without looking at Albus, who winced and risked a glance over at the Slytherin table. Bruna was watching them with a nasty leer on her face.

"Are they just thick gorillas with bats?" said Meghan Finnegan, sitting down by James.

"More or less." Scorpius smiled cautiously when the others all laughed. Albus was glad they were being kind to him, whether they liked him or not.

 "That's how Slytherin usually picks Beaters," said Rory Finnegan with a chuckle. "Bruna Goyle's a third-year, but she looks like she could be seventeen, and I don't mean the pretty, mature blonde type of seventeen. I mean the walking cinderblock wall kind of seventeen."

"She must be a pretty good Beater then," mumbled Fred, peering over at the Slytherins interestedly. "Well, Ravenclaw will still crush Slytherin. Then Hufflepuff will play Slytherin, which will be a boring game because it's just telling third place. If Slytherin beats Hufflepuff,we have a fighting chance. If not, we still have one, but not with Melanie Schwartz."

"She's nice and all," agreed Meghan, "but you would have a better chance with a herd of bowtruckles as your Seeker."

Professor Mycroft stood, and the hall quieted. "Congratulations to Gryffindor on their success this morning," he said, smiling at them graciously as Fred and James cheered raucously for a few seconds in the silence, "and congratulations to Hufflepuff for their hard work as well. I don't have much to say to you all otherwise, so I bid you a Happy Halloween, and let the feast begin!"

The dishes appeared on the table, and Albus remembered to say, "Thanks, house-elves," before serving himself some pork chops and asparagus.

"How do you eat that stuff?" said Scorpius, wrinkling his nose at Albus's choice of vegetable.

"Asparagus is delicious." Albus forked a piece onto Scorpius's plate. "Try it. Our family went to Amsterdam when I was about four, and apparently all vegetables are delicious when they're made in Holland."

Scorpius shrugged, stabbed his asparagus and chewed thoughtfully.

"So why-" began Fred, looking at Scorpius, but Albus, straight-faced, kicked him under the table. Fred stared at him, then subsided. Nobody else said anything, and soon they were all talking Quidditch again over the feast.

 Albus, two months into Hogwarts, loved everything about it. He had tasted a little sourness, what with Scorpius's tormentors and the lousiness of Melanie Schwartz at Quidditch, but those things were easy to overlook when you considered things like learning hexes and making friends and asparagus and letters from home. He couldn't remember much of a happier time in his whole life, and that was saying something, as on the whole his life had been a very happy one. He understood Scorpius, and although he liked Alaric and Phil, Scorpius had something more interesting about him, one that Albus liked because it brought out the best in both of them. And Rose was always there to make life interesting- she'd been his best friend since childhood- and Norah was a sweetheart. It was funny, how they were all in different Houses and yet they had become best friends on their own, without the help or hindrance of Houses, that day on the train to Hogwarts. Friendship was a funny thing. It transcended Houses. A lot of things did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness. I apologize for the lateness in updating. I have the whole story written, swear to God, but I forget to update regularly. (Also my roommate is trying to kick her fanfiction habit so I'm trying to be helpful with that.) As always, I love your comments and kudos! :)


	6. Philosophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose makes a friend- sort of- and in which there are so many references and stuff and man, I'm just really sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: I was shuddering the whole time I wrote the soliloquy on Houses. I do not personally subscribe to the belief. It's something the character says, not me.

Chapter Six: Philosophy (Rose)

 

 It was a cold Saturday in November. Rose was done with her homework, and she had been studying for a few hours that morning. Thanks to the mild sleeping potion Madam Pomfrey had helped her make, she managed to sleep soundly for at least eight hours a night, ad she could wake up on Saturdays well before noon. A charm on her bed curtains helped to block out some of the light and noise her roommates made in the mornings, too. She was feeling healthier and her grade in Herbology had gone up by a large margin. She still wasn't doing well, but she was doing better. And when she had Norah and Al, and the company (though not the pleasure) of Scorpius, she didn't feel as guilty about disliking her roommates. She didn't need them. Today, Rose decided that she wanted to go exploring.

She started by walking through most of the castle. She avoided the Slytherin dungeon and a few of the hallways where she knew her roommates liked to hang out when they weren't in their rooms. She went to the library, but by now she knew every inch of the library better even than her own bedroom. It was a familiar, comforting place. But Rose was restless. She felt like doing something new.

She walked up to the Astronomy tower, which was usually closed during the day. Professor Sinistra usually spent her Saturdays with several other teachers down in Hogsmeade, and locked her classroom and office when she was gone. Today it was unlocked, which was a spot of good fortune. She wandered around the room and peered through the telescopes and then, suddenly, saw that the window was open, and that a boy was crouched on the sill.

He was an odd-looking boy, almost too tall and skinny to be a student. He was stork-like, she decided. His hair, an indeterminate dark color against the light of the window, was just long enough to hang in his face.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

The boy spun around, but the movement wasn't surprised, noticed sharp-eyed Rose. He turned with an expectancy that surprised her, as though he knew she would come. For one moment it looked like he was going to fall, and Rose took a step forwards to steady him, but his hands grabbed the window frame, and he was perfectly balanced.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" His voice was husky and dark, a fascinating voice. In fact, it was familiar. Rose frowned.

"Aren't you Professor Hale's-"

"Brother," said the boy jerkily. "Half-brother, to be exact." He snorted."Not like it matters or anything. Max is as much of a twerp as if he actually were my brother."

"So you're Matthias?" guessed Rose.

 "That's me." Matthias lowered himself from the window. "And you're a Weasley, as the hair indicates. Though these days, you can't tell if someone's a Weasley or not by the hair. You and your cousins have hair with a wildly symphonic range of color and grandeur. But you have that sort of face. A Weasley face, with nice Weasleyish sorts of things in it..." He trailed off.  

"I'm Rose Weasley," said Rose, offering her hand to shake. She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do; this boy was so _strange_. But it was a good kind of strange. "And I've heard things about you."

"I imagine," said Matthias. He accepted her hand graciously and sat down in one of the desks and began to fiddle with the telescope on it. "Tell me some of my stories. I haven't heard any good gossip in a while."

"Well, you're the Keeper for our House," began Rose cautiously.

"Boring. Even I knew that. What else have you got?"

Rose felt a challenge in his sly smirk, and said calmly, "I've heard that you like to disrupt your brother's class by charming animals to burst in through the windows at opportune moments."

"God, you do something once and they blow it right out of proportion. Go on."

 "Everyone says you should be in Slytherin," said Rose, "and as far as I can tell you deserve that one. Also you're an arrogant jerk." That last was more of her own observation; she wasn't sure whether to like this boy or not, and so she began by staying on the offensive.

 "Right on," said Matthias, "but the question of whether I should be in Slytherin and the reason people think I should be there are two different things." He leaned forwards in his seat, holding two pieces of the telescope in his hands and clicking them together. His blue-grey eyes were suddenly intense and dark. "Tell me, why do people always doubt the Sorting Hat? You go to Hogwarts and you get Sorted and sometimes people just defy every expectation set out for them." He watched her, waiting for an answer. He had very sharp eyes and perfectly styled brown hair, now that she could see him properly- not as light as his brother's hair.

Rose considered his question, then said pertly, "I think sometimes the Sorting Hat is experimenting with us. I think sometimes it just throws everyone for a loop because it can."

"So you don't subscribe to a belief in the role of fate, destiny, one's wryd, or any sort of predestined future? Good. Nobody should. Anyone can change their destiny." He yawned and raked his hair backwards with his fingers.

In spite of herself, Rose found herself liking this eccentric older boy. He wasn't nearly as good-looking as Professor Hale, and Professor Hale wasn't even good-looking. But he was smart and companionable, and he asked interesting questions, the sort of questions that Rose often thought but never said aloud.

"Why do you think the Sorting Hat might have thrown everyone for a loop what with _my_  Sorting?" said Matthias.

"Because you're smart," said Rose, "and you know how to play the Hat's game. If you'd gone to Slytherin, I bet you would have been the best-behaved little Ravenclaw in the world."

Matthias chuckled. "Miss Weasley, you have read me out well. I wouldn't have ever gone to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. They're all too honest with everyone. But Slytherins lie all the time, and a Ravenclaw can tell a little white lie every now and then with a perfectly straight face."

"Honesty is a good thing," said Rose firmly.

"So it is, in the hands of an intelligent human being. But more problems in the world are caused by stupid, honest men than dishonest smart ones. See, the honest ones think that they're doing the world a favor by throwing out dishonesty. But where would honesty be without dishonesty? Where would Gryffindor be without Slytherin?"

"I don't know," said Rose, nonplussed by the barrage of questions.

"Think of it this way. If there were no Slytherins, then the Gryffindors would look like a pointless bunch of brawn-over-brain gorillas who pride themselves on the fact that their Founder had a goblin-made sword that their icon, your uncle Harry Potter, used to destroy almost all of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes."

A chill breeze blew in through the window; Rose shivered. "You have a point," she admitted.

"Therefore you have Slytherins, who serve as the scapegoats for just about everything in this school. In so doing, you don't have the Brains, the Brawns, and the Whoever-the-hell's-left-overs. Since Slytherin is around, you can have Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff. And those are good Houses, because you have a bad one to make the rest of them better. See what I mean?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Rose paused, then asked, "What were you doing up here, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," said Matthias, and his face became dark. "I don't feel like doing it anymore, anyway. Your company intrigues me, Miss Weasley. You have a piquant mind."

"Thank you, I think," said Rose faintly. Was he trying to flirt with her? She was much too young for that, and anyway she didn't even like him _that_ much.

"Oh, Merlin's pants, now I've gone and scared her." It was frightening, the way he could read her like a book. "You're safe, little girl. I've been stuck on Frankie Longbottom since the first day of my second year, but she doesn't know or care that I exist. It's a hard-knock life for a juvenile delinquent with a last-minute Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for an older half-brother. But that's enough about me. Tell me about you and your entirely unreasonable hatred for Scorpius Malfoy."

Rose felt her face turning to stone, and she glared at Matthias in shock and anger at his correct assumption.

"You seem surprised," he said dryly.

"Excuse me, but you can't just go around spying on people!" said Rose coldly.

"I am incredibly observant, as well as intelligent and charming. I thought you would have noticed that by now. I have many sterling qualities, Miss Weasley; I assure you, I choose to behave badly on occasion out of mere whimsy, which is of course one of my sterling qualities, as is my ability to observe and my notorious lack of tact. Anyway, tell me why you don't like young Malfoy."

"I don't really know," said Rose disdainfully, but still wondering why she was telling this to a boy she had barely met. "He's just so calm and cold. And he's stuck up."

"So you don't like him because he displays no emotion, negative or otherwise, toward you. In short, he doesn't give you the attention that- ahem- perhaps you feel you deserve?"

"Maybe. No. I don't know." Rose was beginning to feel harried.

"I watch a lot of people," said Matthias thoughtfully. "I most particularly watch young Malfoy. You see, you and your friends intrigue me. Miss Longbottom, junior, is a sweet young lady, and I have kindly helped her find her way to class several times. She has nothing in the way of looks or brains on her sister, of course-"

"Excuse me, but Norah is very pretty and quite smart," said Rose indignantly. "In fact, she's a genius at Potions!"

"I didn't say she wasn't. It's just hard to... appreciate her, if you will, in light of her sister. However, she is a very kind little person; an old soul in a young body, if you will. She thanked me very nicely for my help."

"That sounds like Norah," admitted Rose.

"Now, your cousin, young Potter on the other hand, while he is probably the most saintly chap I have ever seen in my entire life, excepting my younger brother Marius, he is also easy to understand. He is, my dear, an idealist." Matthias's smile was mocking.

"Idealism isn't a fault," said Rose, offended, "and there's much more to Albus than that. You've got him and Norah all wrong."

"I'll admit I'm generalizing. I don't suppose that idealism is all there is to young Potter. You know him by knowing him." Matthias smiled and sighed. "And yet, sometimes, an outsider can see the picture with greater clarity than someone closer to it. Sometimes, all you need is a new perspective to solve a problem."

"Your're still wrong about Albus."

"And I suppose idealism would only be a fault if young Potter didn't practice it, correct? And Miss Longbottom, junior, also has something of the idealist about her. What a shame you're all only eleven, I could just start planning your weddings right now-"

" _Excuse_ me?" Rose could hardly believe her ears.

"And then there's you," continued Matthias, as if she hadn't spoken.

"What about me?"

"You are smart and clever, and not bad-looking for a little girl-"

"As if looks mattered," said Rose scornfully.

"Excuse me, were you not just a moment ago defending Miss Longbottom, junior, by saying she was in fact pretty? I quote _you_ here. Don't be a hypocrite, my dear, it is most unbecoming." Matthias cleared his throat. "Anyway, you are a shining star in the skies of your classes, and although the other girls in your year are also luminous, it is with self-tanning products and the glow of their own pride that they bask in, not the radiance of true talent like yourself."

Rose snorted at the surprisingly accurate description of her roommates.

"But you refuse to believe you shine, and it is not because you are a pessimist or even, as is more common, one of those girls who insists that she is ugly or fat or stupid so that people will tell her that she is not. You are a realist, and it is because of this that I don't understand _why_ you hate young Malfoy." Matthias leaned back in his seat, took out his wand, and flicked it at the pieces he had taken off the telescope. They zoomed back to where they were.

"So we're back to this again?"

"All of 'that' was leading up to 'this.' You see, you haven't denied me any of the claims I've made about you. You're smart. You know I'm not lying about what I see, and you know I'm seeing correctly."

He smirked again, then leaned forwards. "What you refuse to see, possibly because the idea is morbid and bitter to you, is that Scorpius Malfoy is, like you, a realist, and that you and he are more similar than you and young Potter or you and Miss Longbottom, junior, ever could be."

"I _beg_ your pardon?" said Rose coldly.

"In fact, we could say that the two of you are the appropriately placed lead weights at the bottom of their helium-filled balloons. Without you two, fighting or not, to hold them down, they would just fly away on the breezes of life." Matthias leaned back in his seat again, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them and folding his hands behind his head, as though he were laying on the ground at the beach.

"You're absolutely hysterical," said Rose dryly.

 "Thank you, aren't I just? I ought to try out for that one comedy troupe that always ends up doing roasts at the Ministry of Magic parties. Anyway, back to you and young Malfoy."

"I don't want to talk about him. Everyone tells me to be nice to him and I just don't feel like it. You, Albus, Norah, everyone." Rose knew she sounded petty, but she had the feeling that Matthias didn't care as much as anyone else would have.

"That's because they know you would be friends if you allowed it. Even he's not unwilling to be your friend. He makes concessions for your rudeness and even ignores it on occasion. If I were him and you were being rude to me, I would have complained about it by now to young Potter. Don't you notice that? Young Malfoy never complains about anything, especially not anything you've said to him."

"Not in my hearing, no," admitted Rose.

She was beginning to feel strangely guilty. It was a new feeling for her, as she was so used to being right all the time.

"He is a very quiet realist," said Matthias soberly. "You're probably the only one who can get him out of his shell properly. Now, since I sense a change of heart and if I keep talking about it I'll ruin it, I shall change the subject. Why is it you came up here?"

Rose blinked. Matthias's manner of speaking was abrupt, though still in that dark, husky, lovely voice. "I was exploring."

"I don't believe in coincidences that much," said Matthias impatiently, "and neither do you, remember? I mean what is it that specifically brought you to the Astronomy Tower, just in time for you to stop me from doing something incredibly stupid and probably melodramatic?"

"Were you going to commit suicide?" demanded Rose.

"No, don't be an idiot. I was going to see if I could land on a thestral. They sail around this tower quite a lot, you know. I see them. Ask young Malfoy if you don't believe me, because he and a few others see them, too."

"That would have gotten you in so much trouble with Hagrid. He loves the thestrals like they're his own flesh and blood, and you could have hurt one of them. How do you know all this stuff?"

"I watch," said Matthias, "and I listen. So many people don't know that in order to listen they first have to be able to shut up. Sometimes I ramble, like I've been doing to you, but I also know how to listen. So what brought you to the Astronomy Tower?"

Rose thought about it- really thought about it, then said slowly, "The door was open. I was trying all the doors, and usually they're locked over the weekend in this tower, but the door was open for this room."

"I picked the lock," said Matthias, showing her several thin metal strips. "I do that. Easier than Alohomora to me, and anyway the teachers enchanted this door so that Alohomora doesn't work on it. Lockpicks it was. And I knew you would be coming this way, and I wanted to talk to you, so I left it open on the off-chance that you would in fact come in."

"How did you know?"

"If you were to be exploring the castle, a person as systematical and logical as yourself would start by covering the main floors of the castle, then move from tower to tower, excepting Ravenclaw which you would have started from, and Gryffindor which you wouldn't have been able to get into. I therefore assumed that you would at some point enter the Astronomy Tower, which, while you have undoubtedly been here before, is still an interesting place. The view is fantastic." He gestured to the window.

"How did you know I would be coming up today of all days?"

"I had no way of knowing that," replied Matthias. "Frankly, I've been coming up here since the first weekend in October, hoping to speak with you."

"Why was it you wanted to talk to me?" Rose got up and crossed over to the window. The view really was lovely. She could see Hagrid's house, the lake, the stretches of the Forbidden Forest, with deepness and darkness in its heart as it sloped up into the mountains.

"Because, as I said, you intrigue me." Matthias joined her at the window. "I watch, and I listen, and everyone knows that that is what I am doing without really knowing what I am doing, and because I am a watcher and a listener, I lead a lonely life. I see everything, but nobody sees me. I see you because you are not like the other characters at this school, dull and flat. You have dimension and depth, Miss Weasley, and you don't even begin to understand how uncommon that is."

 His words were like wandwork, observed Rose, used only with the intent of charming and spellcasting... but she did pity him. He seemed to be telling her everything, pouring out his whole soul to a younger girl without hesitation or inhibitions of any kind. It was... well, frankly, it was odd. Surely there were plenty of other people who would be willing to talk to Matthias... It was as though he really had chosen her.

"Why did you pick me? Surely there are a few other people in the school who interest you. Why not talk to Frankie, if you like her so much?" Rose crossed her arms and stared at Matthias.

"Merlin's pants, what a suggestion. No, Miss Weasley, I would not dare. I am sure Frankie Longbottom, when she deigns to think of me, sees me as no more than a troublemaker and a shame to my House. But on the off chance that I am wrong and she sees me as someone older and charming and mysterious, as I try to be, I would like to preserve that view of me, and not attempt to speak to her, lest I discover her disinterest in me and fall, disillusioned, like the proverbial shot swan."

"Shot swans aren't really proverbial."

"Like the metaphorical shot swan then."

"And anyway, my cousin Victoire told me that most girls will fall for a bad boy," said Rose. "If that's the case, you probably have half the eligible girls in the school madly in love with you, because you're an awful person."

"Ha," said Matthias, without actually laughing. "You don't know the half of it. I am a good-looking fellow and I know it, Miss Weasley, and I have been approached by many a nervous, giggling female for help with their Ancient Runes homework, which is a euphemization in this school for an awkward library date, which usually occurs on a Friday night and involves more making out than actual homework. Gone are the days of my innocence; I may only be fourteen, but I have all the wisdom of the ages when it comes to women."

"That is an incredibly egotistic idea and you ought to take it back right now," said Rose shortly, "because I know for a fact that you have been in four relationships so far this year, and considering your pathetic crush on Frankie, it is an awful thing to do to those poor girls. That doesn't sound like the wisdom of the ages to me."

"Yes, but I only say yes to the ones who are cruel enough to deserve it, and then I act like a complete jerk and let them do the dumping," explained Matthias smugly. "Of course, I could break someone's heart if I were really trying to be cruel. I know you don't like your roommates, do you want me to emotionally paralyze any of them for the next few years?"

"Thanks for the offer, it's appreciated, but with a few spells and a nice little sleeping potion I got from Madam Pomfrey, I do just fine by my roommates," retorted Rose. "You are an awful person, Matthias Hale, and frankly you don't deserve someone as nice as Frankie Longbottom. Good day to you." She strode away from him, towards the door.

"Wait," said Matthias, and there was something that caught in his voice a little, something that made Rose turn, slowly and dangerously. He was either deadly serious or a very good actor.

"What?"

He squirmed for a moment, then mumbled something.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sorry."

Rose was surprised. Of all the people who she would never expect to hear the words "I'm sorry" from, Matthias Hale ranked only under Scorpius Malfoy.

"Really, I am," he said quietly. "I don't really treat girls that way. I was just trying to hold up my end of the conversation by being witty. Frankly, all the relationships you seem to have heard about were mistakes. Mistakes, because none of them were Frankie, but also because I have to learn how to treat people kindly before I can even befriend her, and I have managed to screw up the lives of four different girls in the past two and a half months, which I deeply regret, and-"

"Shut up, you're forgiven," said Rose, before he could give any more reasons. "You just need to have female friends you don't actually date, because they can tell you how girls act, and then you can figure out how to be with Frankie."

"Well, here I am, hoping I've made a start on that whole friendship thing," he explained.

"Congratulations to you, because while you are still an arrogant ball of sleaze, you might be permitted to be my friend. On good days."

"Only out of pity, I expect," said Matthias, "but I thank you, of course." The laugh was back in his voice.

"You're a pitiable fellow," said Rose, "and I hope you realize that no other girl in this school, Frankie Longbottom included, would understand anything you say, ever."

"Only my true friends understand me," said Matthias, with a melancholy laugh, "and I knew you would, Miss Weasley. I only have my brother Marius and yourself."

"Wouldn't Scorpius like you, too, since we're _so_ much alike?" said Rose sardonically.

"No," said Matthias, "because I mirror him in some ways. We are too alike to be friends. The difference is that he is reserved with everyone, and I am reserved with only the proletariat. Those admitted to the higher order of things, such as yourself, are deluged in the waterfall of my entire soul."

"I'm beginning to feel it, just a bit," said Rose, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Matthias grinned again.

"I knew I would scratch your elephant's hide eventually. Now, it is around twelve, and I expect you are hungry. Shall we walk down to the mess and partake of our daily bread?"

"You're mad," said Rose, shaking her head, but she walked out of the Astronomy classroom and allowed Matthias to catch up to her. He was incredibly tall and thin for his age, almost as tall as Professor Hale but much thinner. "Also, are you one of those people who eats and eats and never gets fat?"

"I believe I do have that redoubtable gift. Does that disturb you?"

"Slightly, but not only because I wish I could do that but because it's disgusting."

They passed the bronze eagle on the door to Ravenclaw Tower and walked down the staircase. Rose heard the door open behind them but she didn't turn around. She had already heard her roommates giggling behind the door as they had spotted her. Now she heard quiet gasps as they took in the fact that she, the first-year goody-goody and resident genius, was strolling down to the Great Hall for lunch with Matthias Hale, the most disreputable Ravenclaw ever heard of in Hogwarts.

"Are they impressed or scandalized?" whispered Matthias, his sharp eyes dancing in delight.

"Both, I bet." Rose glanced back and waved cheerfully to her roommates, who were staring at her in shock and curiosity. "Of course, they're such silly things that they would be more impressed if we were dating or something."

"I should find that an awkward sort of cradle-robbing," said Matthias, "and anyway it wouldn't be fair to Frankie Longbottom or young Malfoy."

"What?"

"What do you suppose is for lunch?" said Matthias absently. "I should like a baguette. Perhaps a whole submarine sandwich. Do you think the house-elves would provide me with that?"

"We can mostly eat whatever we want," said Rose. "You want a baguette, you can probably find one."

They emerged above the main steps down to the ground floor. As Matthias and Rose descended, Dominique, Roxanne, and Frankie left the Great Hall, laughing about something.

Rose risked an evil glance at Matthias, whose face had become pale. He shook his brown hair out into his face, and it settled restlessly over his eyes. Rose had to admit he did look a little dashing, but it was strained.

"Hello, Rose," said Dominique. "And, um... hi, Matthias." Rose remembered that they were acquaintances; Dominique was the Seeker and Matthias the Keeper for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

"Hi," said Rose. Matthias nodded distantly, not looking at Frankie. Frankie ignored him.

As they passed, they could hear Roxanne saying, "What a weird guy."

"Mmmmm," said Frankie, plainly bored.

Rose wanted to laugh, but Matthias suddenly raked his fingers back through his hair, and it all stood on end as violently as Albus's hair ever did. He looked tortured, and Rose felt guilty.

"That was mortifying," he muttered.

"Get over it," said Rose. "You want a girl to care, stop caring."

"I've tried that, it doesn't work," said Matthias, "and since when does a scrawny little girl like you know about that sort of thing?"

"Since she has no friends and sits with two of the prettiest girls in the whole school every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Victoire and Dominique have most of the boys in this school strung on their little fingers, you know. They're one-eighth veela. Come on."

Matthias was able to have his baguette, and Rose had a bowl of lamb stew. They sat across from each other, eating in silence, at the end of the table. It was a Saturday, and the lunch hours were more open. There were few people in the hall at this time. Rose glanced around and saw Scorpius eating by himself. He caught her eye and they both looked away, embarrassed.

"You ought to call him over," said Matthias wickedly.

Rose glared at the older boy. "Shut up, or I'll hex you until you can't even walk to the hospital wing. Albus and James taught me some good ones."

"I believe you." Matthias took a sip of pumpkin juice, then said thoughtfully, "You know, in all fairness, if you're friends with me, you have to be friends with young Malfoy."

"And why does that even matter?"

"Because if you're friends with me and not young Malfoy, it looks like you like me, or that you are purposefully avoiding him because he likes you. It's mortifying for both of you, either way." Matthias smiled.

"You are the most aggravating boy I have ever met in my whole life," said Rose frigidly.

"Thanks, I've been trying." Matthias stood up. "Well, my dear Miss Weasley, if you'll excuse me, I have business elsewhere. The sort of business that involves procrastinated Herbology homework and a ridiculous two-foot Potions essay on the reasons a bezoar is not always the best antidote for the poisons it is able to cure."

Rose shuddered. "I would procastinate those, too."

"Be lucky you don't have O.W.L.S for the next four years. Farewell, Miss Weasley." Matthias flitted his fingers at her and walked away.

Not fifteen seconds later, Rose's roommates had moved to sit nearby. "Hey, Rose," said Claire, in a voice so mild it was almost friendly.

"Wasn't that Matthias Hale?" breathed Branwen.

"Um, yes, it was," said Rose, nonplussed.

"He's like, really attractive," said Sam. She was filing her nails and didn't look up, but she spoke clearly.

"Ohmigosh he's like, a total babe!" said Brittany. She had a slightly squeaky voice. "Are you two, like, _dating_?"

"Oh, Merlin's beard, no," said Rose. "He's much too old for me. And he's stuck on-" She almost said Frankie's name but remembered in time that her roommates were gossipy. "-some other girl. He basically just talks to me about his girl problems." _And my boy problems, evidently. What boy problems?_

"He likes someone? That'll be like, the fifth one this year," said Branwen. "Did he tell you who?"

"No," lied Rose, her face placidly straight. "I wish he had, I'm dying to know who it is." _Actually, I already know, but now you can pretend you like me and I can pretend I believe you._

"Ohmigosh me too," said Brittany. Rose wondered if the other girl started every sentence with "Ohmigosh" or if it was just something nobody had told her to stop doing.. "That would be, like, super cool to know. If he tells you, you'll, like, tell us, right?"

"Sure thing." _Over my dead body, you spoiled brat._

Claire was watching her, and Rose felt that the other girl was not convinced that she didn't know anything. Sam was still filing her nails.

"Where were you guys talking?" asked Claire. "You were coming down past Ravenclaw Tower- we sort of saw you," she added.

 _Of course you did._ "Oh, we were up by the Owlery. He likes to hang out there on the weekends. He says he has a lot in common with the owls. I was delivering a letter to my parents and I just sort of stumbled onto him," explained Rose. It gave her a sort of thrill to lie outright to these girls, who had never made an effort to include her before.

"You know who else is cute?" said Branwen thoughtfully. "Your cousin."

"What?" _I have a lot of cousins. Specify._

"Not Albus. He's a nice kid. But his brother, the Chaser, is pretty cute."

"James?" Rose could hardly believe her ears. "You think _James_ is cute?" _Just how idiotic does this conversation have to get?_

"He's not bad-looking," said Claire, a little dismissively. "I think the other Gryffindor Chaser is cuter."

Rose tried to think of an excuse to leave, but she was coming up blank. "Umm, you mean Brendan Chifferdon?"

"Chiff," agreed Sam, still filing her nails. "Chiff is hot."

"He's very nice," said Rose. She had met Chiff at the celebratory party after the Quidditch match. Fred had made his family shake hands with all the team members, except for Melanie Schwartz, who was hiding in her room and crying during the party. _And serve her right_ , thought Rose viciously.

"You know him, too?" said Brittany. "Ohmigosh, like, how many cute boys do you know?"

"I have cousins, and they have friends," said Rose. "I don't really count the cuteness, they're all really just friends."

She was met with a blank stare from all of her roommates, and an awkward silence ensued. Rose broke it by saying, "Well, I have things to do. See you all around."

"Sure," said Brittany. Rose remembered how Brittany had sneered at her during the Sorting, and wondered how it was that she was the nicest out of all of them.

"See you," said Sam, without looking up from her nails.

  "Bye," said Branwen. Claire said nothing, but she waved and gave Rose a small smile, a smile small enough to hint to her that something cruel was in the wind, and also that she knew that Rose hadn't told them the whole truth. Rose did not like that smile, so she returned it with a very wide one that showed a lot of teeth, hoping to send the message that she, like a large and sharp-toothed feline of any variety, would bite back when bitten. She knew that Claire would attack soon, and when she did, Rose would be ready. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. YOU ONLY GET TO HAVE MATTHIAS NOW. I'VE BEEN WAITING. (and forgetting to update.)  
> I apologize for everything he has ever said and done. Matthias is my way of inserting myself into the story without actually inserting myself into the story. Ugh. Sorry.


	7. Storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a crap-ton of stuff you already know and some comic relief and yeah just stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. EXPOSITION. I am very sorry. (Also plot at the end sorry again)

Chapter Seven: Storytime (Albus)

 

"I'm bored," said Fred abruptly.

Albus looked up from his homework. Fred sat in one of the well-stuffed armchairs by the fire, staring moodily into it. James was sprawled on the ground, writing an essay for History of Magic with his eyes half-closed. Alaric and Phil were on either side of Albus, doing their work. Roxanne and Frankie were out studying with Dominique in the library.

"Me, too," said James. "If I have to write one more word about the goblin revolution of 1568 I am going to throw myself off the tower."

"Don't," said Albus. "The thestrals would smell your blood, and then they would eat you, and what would we tell Mum and Dad?"

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Potter," said Fred, holding his hand up and miming the writing of a letter, "we are sorry to inform you that your son James has died. He jumped off Gryffindor Tower out of sheer boredom with his History of Magic homework and the thestrals ate him. Please send for his things as soon as possible as they are clogging up the dormitories. That is all. Best wishes, Professor Mycroft and the Hogwarts staff."

They all laughed, even James.

"What time is it?" asked Alaric.

"Ten," said Fred, "and there's no Quidditch tomorrow, so I feel at liberty to stay up as late as I like. Gentlemen? Anyone to join me?"

"Can we get food?" said James eagerly.

"Honeydukes will be closed, but my dad gave me a tip about the house-elves," said Fred with a wink. "This is a trip I like to make alone, though. Can you lend me the map, James?"

"Why can't I come with?" protested James.

"Because my dad and Uncle Fred used to go," said Fred, and a slight shadow fell over his face. Albus glanced away, feeling instantly guilty.

 "Right," said James, and Albus could hear guilt in James's voice, too. He wondered what it would be like, to have a dad whose twin brother died. A twin, whose thoughts you practically knew. A best friend, who did everything with you, and all of a sudden he just died. Uncle George had to have some problems with it, but he named his son Fred, for Uncle Fred. Albus remembered his father saying once that during the Triwizard Tournament, Uncle Fred had taken Aunt Angelina to a dance. He wondered if Fred's death still bothered her. "I'll go get that, then."

James stood up and hurried up to the dorms. Alaric and Phil, confused, stared after him.

"James has a magical map of Hogwarts, which I can use to avoid teachers since it's after hours," explained Fred.

James came down the stairs and handed Fred the sheaf of old parchment that was the Marauder's Map. Albus smiled as Fred got up and vaulted off with the map. He heard the portrait door swing open and the Fat Lady's voice floated in reprovingly. "My dear Mr. Weasley, you should be in bed, not wandering the corridors."

"It's just a quick trip down to the kitchens, milady, I'll be really quiet," said Fred winningly. James and Albus started to laugh; they could tell that Fred was using all the charm he could muster up, and while it was not to be denied that Fred was a charming person, he was making a great effort. "You look lovely tonight, milady, has anyone told you that today?"

"Oh! Well, be off with you, Fred Weasley, and come straight back!" said the Fat Lady smilingly. James, Albus, Alaric, and Phil snickered as the portrait door swung closed.

"I don't want to do homework," said James, corking his ink bottle and shoving it into his bookbag along with the half-written essay. "Let's plan a prank on Fred for when he gets back."

"Leave a Dungbomb right under the portrait door for him to step on," suggested Phil.

"Merlin's beard, no. We'll all have to suffer through that one," said James, wrinkling his nose. "Let's rig up something in his room."

"His roommates are probably all asleep," said Albus, "and we can't enjoy it if he isn't going to bed for a while. We could slip some of the Cockroach Cluster in his candy box into whatever food he brings back."

They all grimaced at that one. Nobody liked Cockroach Cluster, however many jokes were made about it.

"No," said James, "I can't see the use in poisoning good food with that. And we have to make sure whatever food comes back isn't damaged. We want to eat food, not clean it off the carpet."

"Let's charm the cushion of his chair so that it keeps poking him in the bum," said Alaric.

"That is an excellent idea, and how do you propose we go about doing it?" teased Phil. Alaric punched Phil in the shoulder; since Phil was a small mountain, he shrugged while Alaric wrung his hand out ruefully.

"Eh, let's leave it," said James. "One time last year he managed to rig the carpet so that there was a bucket of water hanging from the chandelier, and when Professor Creevey walked in he stepped on a certain spot on the rug and the water fell on him. Nobody knows how he did it. I still haven't figured it out. Fred told me when I figured it out he would buy me a whole stack of Skiving Snackboxes."

"An oldie, but a goodie," said Phil approvingly. "When I went to Muggle school for reading and maths and stuff, I used to use those all the time to get out of gym class. Dodgeball? Oh, look, I got a really bad nosebleed. Playing football? Wow, Phil just threw up and he won't _stop_."

James snickered. "I used to do that."

They shared stories about childhood pranks until Fred returned with two baskets of food and a house-elf carrying two more. Fred set the baskets down, turned to the house-elf, and said, "Thanks, Noddy."

The house-elf looked like a typical house-elf, but he wore a vibrant yellow sock on one ear and a striped legwarmer holes cut into it for his arms as a sort of sweater-robe thingy in addition to the neat towel-toga that all Hogwarts elves wore. He was taller and leaner than most elves, his head almost to Fred's waist, and his arms and legs were longer and thinner as well.

"You is most welcome, Master Wheezy!" squeaked the house-elf. "Could Noddy perhaps stay and help the young sirs with anything? 'Tis most boring down in the kitchen, 'tis most boring indeed, sir."

"I think we're all right. Go off and have a rest," said Fred firmly.

"Wait, I have a question," said Phil. "House-elves don't wear clothes. Why are you wearing clothes?"

"Oh, Merlin's beard, you've set him off," mumbled Fred, sinking into his chair and burying his head in his hands.

"Noddy is most pleased to answer the young sir's question!" cried Noddy, delighted. "In the Battle of Hogwarts that is nineteen years ago, sir, my parents fought with the house-elves, they did. They fought under Kreacher the Obedient, sir. He was their war leader, sir. And they met during the battle and got married and had themselves a Kreacher who was named after Kreacher the Obedient, and then they had themselves a Dobbina who was named for Dobby the martyr of the Battle at Malfoy Manor, and then they had themselves a Noddy, and here Noddy is, sir!" He swept them a low bow. "And Dobby the martyr used to work at Hogwarts in the kitchens, and ever since Dobby the martyr died for Master Potter, the kindest wizard who ever lived, all the elves here at Hogwarts wear a sock of some kind somewhere on their person, sir. And since Noddy's father Dodgy was the brother of Dobby the martyr, Noddy also wears a sweater, to honor Noddy's father Dodgy's brother Dobby the martyr. Dumbledore was a kind headmaster, sir, and he paid Dobby the martyr one Galleon a month, because Dobby the martyr," and here Noddy lowered his squeaky voice, "was a very strange elf, sir, indeed Dobby the martyr was. Dobby the martyr had odd ideas about freedom and vacations and salaries and such things like that. But Noddy has no such ideas! Miss McGonagall was a kind headmaster too, and she offered to pay us elves, but we said no, sir. Dobby the martyr had not rubbed off on us that much, sir. But we all wear one sock apiece, and do not think we is free elves just because of it. Master Mycroft is also a kind headmaster, and while he did not offer to pay Noddy or Dobbina or Kreacher who was named after Kreacher the Obedient or old Dodgy or Noddy's mother, disgraceful drunken Winky, he told all of us elves that it didn't matter if we wore whatever we wanted as long as we continued to do the wonderful work we did here at Hogwarts. So we all is wearing socks, and some of us, but not all of us, wear other clothes. Noddy is not really wearing a sweater, you see, sir. Noddy is wearing a legwarmer that somebody lost in Hufflepuff basement eight years ago. But Noddy is still wearing something to honor Noddy's father Dodgy's brother Dobby the martyr, sir. And that, sir, is why Noddy wears clothes." He gave another deep bow.

There was a moment of silence, and then Fred said to Phil, "Thanks a lot. That was the abridged version, believe it or not. I got the full story on the way up. For the eighth time."

"Is there anything else Noddy can do for the young sirs?" said Noddy hopefully.

"Why do you keep him around if you don't like the story?" James asked Fred.

"Because he more or less worships me, which is nice," said Fred. "Also, I told him I'm a Weasley, and most of the Hogwarts house-elves know and dread the Weasleys, but his uncle, Dobby, was a friend of Uncle Harry's, so Noddy feels obligated to serve me eternally or something."

"And all of your children and your children's children, and your children's children's children, sir!" chimed in Noddy. "Noddy will be happy to serve the Wheezies until Noddy is dead and rotting in the ground, sir!"

"Did he say he knows Kreacher?" said Albus. "I miss Kreacher. He makes a mean French onion stew."

Noddy turned and fixed his large, bulbous blue eyes on Albus. "What was that the young master said? The young master knows Kreacher the Obedient?"

"Yeah," said Albus, suddenly uncomfortable. "He's our house-elf, he lives in our house."

Noddy's eyes were so big they looked like they were going to pop out of his face. "But Kreacher the Obedient lives in the house of Master Potter, the friend of all house-elves, the kindest wizard that ever lived! Do- does the young master _know_ Master Potter!"

"He's my dad," said Albus. "I'm Albus Potter."

Noddy threw himself flat on the ground, as though he were worshipping Albus. "Bless Master Albus's heart, sir! Noddy is awed. Noddy has met the son of Master Potter. Noddy is forever grateful to Master Potter for his kindness to the elves."

"Oh, Merlin's pants, he'll be here all night," groaned Fred.

"I'm also Harry Potter's son," said James wickedly, throwing a look at Fred, who sunk into his chair and moaned. "My name is James."

Noddy's eyes were trembling, though not as hard as the rest of his body. "Noddy sees the resemblance! Both Master Albus and Master James look muchly like Master Potter, the friend of the elves! Noddy will be happy to do anything for you in your entire lives. And you are all friends of Master Potter's sons, and Noddy will do anything for you."

"Okay," said James, a devilish grin sliding onto his face. "Thanks, Noddy. We appreciate it."

"Noddy is happy to do what Noddy can, sir. Noddy is forever grateful."

"You can go back to the kitchens and sleep," said Albus, frowning at James. "We wouldn't want to keep you up too late."

Noddy's eyes filled with sudden tears. "Master Albus is so kind, like Master Potter. He thinks of Noddy and wishes Noddy good health. Noddy is doubly grateful. Noddy will go now, sirs. Noddy cannot wait to tell the other elves in the kitchen about Master Albus and Master James." And Noddy vanished with another low bow and a pop.

Fred sighed. "Once he gets going, he goes on forever. You can't shut him up for love or money."

"Still, he's going to come in handy," said James. "A house-elf that feels eternally indebted to me and my family... I can only imagine the possibilities..."

"Can you imagine what Aunt Hermione would say?" said Albus, teasingly, but he was half-serious. The look in James's eye when he talked about how useful Noddy would be was a little bit disturbing.

"I'm not going to enslave him or anything," scoffed James, which made Albus feel better at once. "He can just get me a snack every now and then if I want one. Sometimes I get hungry at night. Speaking of which, can we get into the grub?"

Fred opened the baskets to reveal cream cakes and pastries, fresh fruit, a large cooked ham, rolls and a little pot of jam, and a wheel of cheese. One whole basket was full of Honeydukes chocolates and sweets, and yet another basket was full of bottles of butterbeer. Butterbeer wasn't specifically contraband for students under third year, but it was a rare treat if you weren't allowed into Hogsmeade.

"Cheers," said Fred, popping the cap off his bottle. The common room was deserted for a Friday night; the few people still around when Fred had left for the kitchens had left when Noddy had begun to relate his life story to them. It was just the five of them.

"Hey, Fred," said Albus, an interesting idea occuring to him. "Why do you hang out with us? Don't you have friends your own age?"

James cocked his head at Fred. "Yeah, why?"

"I'm with people my own age during classes," answered Fred. "But the real reason I spend time with you younger boys is because you aren't always testing each other like fellows of my advanced age. It makes me feel... I don't know, like I don't have to prove myself to you. Plus, you two are family, and you can get up the best hijinks with family." He grinned wolfishly.

"Truer words have never been spoken," said James. "I remember one time, when we went to visit the Burrow for Grandmum Molly's birthday, Fred and I rigged up a zipline from the attic down to the shed with the clothesline. I remember sliding down and crashing into the chicken coop-"

"-Merlin's pants, we got into so much trouble," said Fred, his voice shaking with laughter.

"-and I remember that Mum and Dad were coming outside as I jumped off, and I shouted, 'Geronimo!' as I went down, and the looks on their faces were priceless," continued James. "And then all the cousins and everyone ran outside to see what was happening, and then I hit the chicken coop, and they went everywhere-"

"A couple of them died," said Albus. "We had funerals for the gray hen that liked to bite and the old rooster that was mostly dead anyway."

They were all laughing now, Phil and Alaric at the story and Fred, James, and Albus at the memories.

"And then when you were struggling out of the wreckage, Aunt Ginny came over and pulled you out by your ear," said Fred, whose face was red with mirth. "And I was just sitting on the roof watching as you got the combing-down of your life."

Albus stood up on his chair and said, in a clever imitation of his mother's voice, "James Sirius Potter, how dare you mess about with the clothesline and half kill yourself with a zipline! If you ever get into such a mess again I'll just kill you myself! I swear, you will be grounded for a month and I should just send you off to Azkaban because if you wreck anything else you'll be headed there anyway!"

James rolled about laughing on the floor.

"Did she really say that?" said Phil, gasping for air.

"Yeah, she did," said Albus. "I keep that memory in a special place in my head, so I don't forget it." He dodged the roll James threw at him.

"And then Aunt Angelina tried to make me climb down," said Fred, "only I wouldn't, because I knew I was going to be in for it. I slept on the roof of the attic that night. The ghoul was a lovely companion in his purple pajamas."

"I remember that!" said Albus. "And then in the morning when everyone went out to check on you, we were all sure you had fallen off the roof. But you didn't, your head was hanging down by the drainpipe and you were sprawled flat and snoring in broad daylight."

"Oh, but let's not get started on Al here," said Fred, grinning. "I remember at Uncle Percy's wedding, I was about seven, and Al was about a year old. He was crawling, and he got into Grandmum Weasley's silverware drawer and he got all the butter knives out and somehow they all disappeared. Every last one. And Grandmum Weasley has never been able to find a single one since then. She has to use plastic butter knives and multiply them when she runs out. She wasn't too mad, said she was used to my dad and Uncle Fred, but every time since then they've tried to buy a new set of butter knives, they always disappear, just like the originals."

"I have no idea how that happened," said Albus, shaking his head, "but frankly it's funny, and a good joke on me."

"One time Fred set off a Weasley's Wildfire Whizbang firework that Albus was playing with," said James. "It was a big rocket, too, and Albus flew up with it for about twenty feet before he fell off."

"I remember that, too," said Fred, laughing. "I had just gotten back from first year of Hogwarts, and I set it off and boy did my mother swat me a good one, and then Dad thought it was hilarious and gave me a box of fireworks and told me to make sure that nobody was going to get hurt when I set them off."

They told stories and ate pastry and ham and fruit late into the night, and finally the seventh-year prefects came downstairs and told them all to go to bed or they would get detentions. Fred packed the food back into the baskets, and lazily sent it down to the kitchens with a flick of his wand. James grumbled a little but he, too, went to bed. Albus, Alaric, and Phil went up to their dorm; Quincey and Kendrick were already asleep. Albus brushed his teeth and laid down in his bed and pretended to sleep, but he was really thinking about some stories, other ones, that Fred and James hadn't related to Phil and Alaric.

He remembered what had happened the night James left for his first year at Hogwarts, about a year and three months ago now. Closing his eyes, he relived the memory in his mind.

 

_"James, Al, Lily, could you come into the living room?" Dad had asked them, at about seven that night. They had had dinner and dessert, and James was nervously finishing up with his packing, his things strewn about the upper hallway in front of his room. Mum was in the kitchen washing the dishes with Kreacher, but she patted Kreacher on the head, took off her rubber gloves, and followed them all into the living room, where Harry Potter sat on the sofa._

_James sat in the big armchair by the fire; Albus sat down right next to Dad and snuggled under his arm. Mum and Lily took the loveseat._

_"Since James is going to go to Hogwarts tomorrow, and you've all heard the public story of my life, we've decided it was time we told you the real version," said Harry quietly. "Ron and Hermione aren't here to help me tell it, but with the exception of Neville Longbottom, your mother probably knows the most of what happened."_

_"What do you mean, the real version?" said James indignantly. "Have you been lying to us or something?"_

_"It wasn't a lie, exactly," said Harry. "Your mother and I decided that you weren't ready for the real truth until you were older. You see, some of the details are best left hidden from the general public. Only a few people know the truth about everything. Even Arthur and Molly don't know, and neither do Bill and Fleur and their kids, or Charlie, or Percy and Aubrey and their kids, or George and Angelina and their kids. Only our family, Ron and Hermione, Luna Lovegood- Luna Scamander, really, and Neville Longbottom know the real story. Mostly everyone else has a different picture of the facts."_

_"So all the things about the Horcruxes aren't true?" said Lily. Albus felt a little cold spot at the base of his skull, that traveled all the way down his spine. He shivered._

_"Most of that is true," said Harry gravely. "But some of it is a tad exaggerated. We thought it was best to leave the story that way. And there is another part of the Horcrux story, one you don't know about, and there is also a whole other part that only Ron and Hermione and your mother and I know about." He paused, cleaned his glasses, and settled them back onto his face. The three of them waited, knowing that he would start his story momentarily and that it couldn't be rushed._

_"It all began with a fairy tale," he said at last. "The story of Death and the Three Brothers. Albus, you like that story. Tell us that story."_

_Albus told the story of the Three Brothers, and how they planned to thwart Death. The eldest brother, with the Elder Wand, failed. The middle brother, with the Resurrection Stone, also failed. But the youngest brother, with the Invisibility Cloak, was able to live long, until he was ready to die and he handed the Cloak down to his son._

_"Okay," said James impatiently. "But what does that have to do with anything?"_

_"What if I told you that the story was a little bit- not all of it, but a little bit of it- true?" said Harry._

_"You mean, there's really an Elder Wand?" said James eagerly. "I would love to have that. I could cast all kinds of spells!"_

_"Yes, there really was. Many people believe that the Three Brothers were actually three ancient wizards named Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotius Peverell. This is true, and I have proof of it." Harry stood up and revealed an object he had been sitting on: his Invisibility Cloak._

_"My Cloak is a little bit different from other Invisibility Cloaks," said Harry quietly. "Other Invisibility Cloaks are ordinary cloaks enchanted with a Disillusionment Charm. Mine is not only that, and it might not even be that, but it is also impervious to spells cast at it directly. Spells can hit you, when you are under the cloak, but it is impossible to use magic to steal or damage my cloak. This is because I am a descendant of Ignotius Peverell, the third Brother. And his cloak, the Invisibility Cloak of the Tale of the Three Brothers, has been passed down from father to son, from the time of the Peverells to my father." He folded the Cloak neatly and placed it on his lap._

_"Together, the three objects form the Deathly Hallows," continued Harry, and he drew a scrap of parchment from his pocket which held the line-circle-triangle mark that James had drawn on his sneakers and passed to Albus. "This symbol was used through the ages, and although nobody really know what it meant, some people suspected. Together, the person who unites the Hallows becomes Master of Death."_

_Albus had been looking at his father's face, and now he said timidly, "Dad?"_

_"Yes, Al?"_

_"Did you ever have all the Hallows?"_

_Harry smiled._

_James, Albus, and Lily stared at their father in amazement._

_"You?" whispered James. "You were the Master of Death?"_

_"At one point, I was the master of all three objects, and I was able to use them to help other people," said Harry, smiling. "It was a very brief point in time, and one I don't like to think about very much. What happened then was that the Elder Wand, which has its own bloody history, fell into the hands of a wizard named Grindelwald. He went to school at Durmstrang, and when he eventually obtained the Elder Wand by stealing it from a wandmaker named Gregorovitch, he used it to try and do very evil things. He was defeated by the man for whom Albus is named."_

_"Albus Dumbledore," said Albus reverently._

_"Exactly. Now, Dumbledore and Grindelwald used to be friends when they were young. But Dumbledore and Grindelwald and Dumbledore's brother Aberforth got into a fight, and Dumbledore's sister Ariana was accidentally killed."_

_The room was quiet. Albus glanced at his mother and saw silent, solemn tears glittering in her eyes._

_"Dumbledore was heartbroken," said Harry quietly. "He defeated Grindelwald many years after that, after Grindelwald had taken possession of the Elder Wand, and the Wand went to Dumbledore. He was the master of it for a very long time, the better part of fifty years in fact. During this time, a boy named Tom Riddle went to Hogwarts."_

_"Voldemort," said James, and there was something quietly respectful in his tone, more like fear than awe but not quite fear, either._

_"Yes," said Harry. "By the end of his time at Hogwarts, he knew about Horcruxes and probably how to make them. He might even have made a few by then. Tell me, which Horcruxes did Voldemort make? There were six." Albus noted the little twitch in his father's face when he said "six," but said nothing._

_"Slytherin's locket and ring, the diary, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, and the snake, Nagini," said James._

_"Yes. He made the Horcruxes with pieces of his soul. The only way to make a Horcrux is by murder and with some vile incantations. He did this, in doing so believed that he was immortal, that he was the Master of Death."_

_"Didn't he know about the Hallows?" said James._

_"No, thank goodness," said Harry. "He went on to terrorize many and hurt many, similarly to the way Grindelwald did when he had the Elder Wand. And now we get to my parents."_

_"Grandad James and Grandmum Lily?" said Lily._

_"Exactly," said Harry. "Voldemort was at power when my parents went to school. It was a bleak time. While my father was at school, he used the Invisibility Cloak and he created a map with four of his friends, called the Marauder's Map." He took a scrap of blank parchment out of his pocket, then drew his wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said with a smile, tapping the parchment. James, Albus, and Lily watched in amazement as beautiful lines of ink spidered away from the spot he had tapped and began to form hallways and doors and rooms and little, moving dots..._

_"The Marauder's Map shows everyone in the school at any given time," said Harry. "Invisibility Cloaks have no effect on it. It shows seven secret passages out of the schools, four of which are blocked in. You can see where people are and where they have been coming from, and therefore avoid people who you don't want to see you. Like teachers, after hours." He smiled. "And the makers of the map were my father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew."_

_"Prongs, Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail," said James. His eyes were huge, staring at the map._

_Harry chuckled, tapped the map with his wand, and said, "Mischief managed." The ink vanished, and the parchment was plain parchment once again. Albus had the feeling that it would be gone from wherever Harry kept it in the morning- the expression on James' face was a mixture of awe and greed._

_"There was one room they couldn't get on the map, no matter how hard they tried," continued Harry. "The Room of Requirement. It's a secret room in Hogwarts. It can transform to become whatever you need it to be. I don't know if the Room of Requirement was destroyed in the Battle of Hogwarts or not, but the last time I saw it, it was going up in flames. Anyway, Voldemort knew about the Room of Requirement. He hid a Horcrux there. In fact, Voldemort hid all of his Horcruxes, except for the diary and Nagini. He gave the diary to Lucius Malfoy for safekeeping; the man had no idea what it was. Nagini stayed with him. The ring was hidden in the home of Marvolo Gaunt; the locket was hidden in a cave off the coast of Scotland, near a village where Voldemort spent time as a child with his orphanage; the cup was hidden in the Gringotts vault of Bellatrix Lestrange; and the diadem was hidden in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts."_

_He told them the real story of how the Horcruxes had been destroyed; in the public version of the story, Harry had killed all of the Horcruxes except for one; Nagini had been killed by Neville Longbottom. They learned that Albus Dumbledore had destroyed the ring, after discovering that it was also the Resurrection Stone; that Ron had taken care of the locket and Hermione the cup, and that inadvertently, Vincent Crabbe had destroyed the diadem by calling down Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. The only Horcrux Harry had actually destroyed was the diary, and he had done that before he even knew what a Horcrux was._

_"And then, in my sixth year, Dumbledore died," said Harry solemnly. "He was killed by Severus Snape, which you all know. You also all know that Severus Snape was killing him on Dumbledore's orders. I told you this already because that was one thing you needed to know, that Severus Snape was a good man. We wouldn't have named Al after him if he weren't a good man. But before Snape killed him, someone Disarmed him."_

_"We know," said James impatiently. "Draco Malfoy. You told everyone during the battle."_

_"I did. And you know that Voldemort didn't know that, and that he killed Snape because he believed this would make him the true master of the Elder Wand. But it didn't." Harry took a deep breath. "Anyway, Dumbledore left Ron his Deluminator, which you've all seen him play with. He left Hermione the book Tales of Beedle the Bard, which was where we first learned about the Hallows, and he left me the sword of Godric Gryffindor and the very first Snitch I caught in my very first Quidditch match at Hogwarts."_

_"Do you still have the Snitch?" asked James._

_"No," said Harry with a smile. "It's probably lying around somewhere where I opened it. But I'll get to that in a second. Voldemort killed Severus Snape during the Battle of Hogwarts, during the hour of truce. Ron and Hermione and I watched him do this. After that, Voldemort left, and I went into where Severus Snape died and he gave me some of his memories. I took them up to the Pensieve, and I watched them." He closed his eyes._

_"What was in those memories?" asked Lily._

_Harry looked at her suddenly, then at Albus, but not at Albus exactly. At his eyes._

_"He was friends with my mother," he said softly. "He didn't like me so much because she died for me. He resented that. If I had resembled her more, as you do, Lils, he might have liked me a little more. But I looked a lot like my dad, the way James and Al do." He squeezed Albus close for a moment. "Anyway, the memories told me something else. Something very, very important."_

_"What was it?"_

_"Voldemort tried to kill me when I was only a baby," said Harry. His voice was so soft now that they were all as quiet as they could be, straining to hear it, to hear every word he said. "But because my mother gave her life for me, the spell failed. Her sacrifice protected me. But the spell rebounded, and it hit Voldemort. The whole house was ruined. We've seen it, on the other side of the village." James nodded, and Albus remembered the vine-covered cottage with the smashed-in door and the stone tablet commemorating the deaths of James and Lily Potter. "And as it had done six times previous, a piece of his soul broke away, and it latched onto something in that ruined house."_

_"Another Horcrux?" whispered Albus._

_Harry nodded._

_"What was it?"_

_Harry closed his eyes again, then said, "It was me."_

_There was a long silence, and then Albus dared to ask, because he could hardly believe it, "_ You _were a_ Horcrux _?"_

_Harry nodded again. "I had no idea," he explained. "For all my life, I had had the scar on my forehead, and I could speak to snakes with Parseltongue, and I was haunted by flashbacks of the deaths of my parents. Little memories, here and there, of what it was like. And after my fourth year, when Voldemort got his body back and had some of my blood in his body, I began to have worse visions, seeing what he was doing, or sometimes, what he wanted me to see. He was able to create images that made me think something was happening, but it wasn't. And sometimes things did happen. Grandad Weasley got bitten by Nagini when he was on duty for the Order of the Phoenix, and I saw it happen. I was able to make sure he got help. But it wasn't always a good thing. I knew what he was thinking sometimes, what he was doing. Sometimes I felt his emotions, and when I did, the scar on my forehead burned like it was being branded into me again, over and over and over."_

_"But you had to destroy the Horcruxes," said James suddenly. "If you were a Horcrux, how did that work?"_

_Harry nodded. "I saw that I was a Horcrux in the Pensieve," he said, "and I knew that in order for Voldemort to die, I had to die. So I decided, during the hour of truce, that I was going to go and give myself to Voldemort. I would sacrifice myself, so that they could all live. I passed Neville on the way out, and I told him how to kill Nagini, and that after that anybody could kill Voldemort. After that I walked out into the Forbidden Forest, where he was waiting for me. As I walked, hidden by the Cloak, I wished I could see my parents again. And then I knew where the Resurrection Stone was. It was in the Snitch Dumbledore had given me. I opened it, and out came the Stone. I turned it over three times in my hand, and then Remus Lupin and Sirius Black and my father and my mother were with me."_

_He was smiling, and it was such a wonderful, happy smile that Albus almost forgot that at this point in the story his father was walking to his death._

_"They stayed with me for a while, and then, when I reached Voldemort's hiding place, I dropped the Resurrection Stone, deep in the forest. I walked forwards, and he raised his wand, and-"_

_James, Albus, and Lily gasped._

_"-and suddenly, I was in King's Cross Station."_

_"What?" said James, disbelievingly._

_"I kid you not," said Harry solemnly. "I was sort of... well, I might even have been dead. But I saw that mangled piece of Voldemort's soul, the one that had been a part of me, and I saw that it had died. And then I met Dumbledore, in King's Cross Station, after I had died. And he told me a lot of things, about the Hallows and the Horcruxes, and about Voldemort and about himself. And then, suddenly, I was back in the Forbidden Forest, lying on the ground."_

_"You died and came back to life?" said Lily, her brown eyes round with amazement._

_"I guess you could say that," said Harry, smiling. "Anyway, after that I was taken back to Hogwarts by the Death Eaters- Voldemort wanted to show everyone that I was dead. And then we ended the Battle of Hogwarts in the Great Hall, and remember that Draco Malfoy had Disarmed Dumbledore, instead of Snape? Well, Voldemort had killed Snape, and not Draco Malfoy. But I had Disarmed Draco at the Battle of Malfoy Manor. So I was the true master of the Elder Wand. And when Voldemort tried to kill me with that wand, it rebounded and it hit him, and he died."_

_"What happened to the Wand?" asked James._

_"I put it back with Dumbledore, in his grave, from where it was wrongfully taken by Voldemort," said Harry. "And the Resurrection Stone is deep in the forest, where nobody will ever find it, and I, of course, got to keep the Invisibility Cloak. It's a present from Ignotius Peverell."_

_They were all silent for a moment, and then Albus asked, "Dad?"_

_"Yes, Al?"_

_"Do we have bits of Horcrux in us?"_

_"Absolutely not," said Harry firmly. "It was all gone when I died and came back to life. Every single bit."_

_"But you still speak Parseltongue," said Albus. "And you've tested us for Parseltongue with the garter snakes in the backyard, and James and I could hear them and Lily even could say hello."_

_"I don't speak it as well as I used to," said Harry. "I have to work at it. And you can sort of learn it, if you have a teacher. Your Uncle Ron heard me say 'Open' so many times that he picked it up himself, and he used it to help Hermione destroy Hufflepuff's cup."_

_"Dad," said Lily gravely, "are you immortal?"_

_Harry chuckled. "Thank goodness, no."_

_"If he were, I would put him to work cleaning," added Ginny. "He would have all the time in the world to do what he wants, but this house only stays clean for so long." They all laughed._

_There was a knock at the parlor door; Kreacher, old and stooped, walked in with a tray with five mugs of hot chocolate. They all took a mug; Albus sipped. It was just hot enough, with a pinch of cinnamon and a dollop of whipped cream._

_"Thank you, Kreacher," said Harry, affectionately shaking the elf's hand._

_"Master is most welcome, sir," said Kreacher in his gravelly voice._

_"Thanks, Kreacher," said Albus. "For helping Dad and Regulus with the Horcrux and stuff."_

_Kreacher's eyes went a little out of focus for a moment, and then he murmured, "Master Albus is too kind, sir."_

_They were all quiet, and then Kreacher looked up at Albus and Harry and, setting the tray on the coffee table, walked over to them, knelt, and said, "Master Harry has always been kind to the elves, sir. Even when Kreacher was ungrateful and wicked and did not deserve it, Master Harry was kind and generous, sir." He fingered a little golden locket around his neck. "This was the necklace that Master Regulus placed in the cave, to deceive the Dark Lord, sir. Master Harry gave it to me, sir. Master Harry and Mistress Ginny and Master James and Master Albus and Miss Lily are all good, kind people, sir. Kreacher is most grateful, sir. He does not forget their kindnesses, sir."_

_Albus felt tears coming to his eyes, and he reached down and took Kreacher's wrinkly, slightly leathery hand. "You're a hero, Kreacher," he told the house-elf._

_"Kreacher is truly humbled by the compliment, sir," said Kreacher, "but no elf or wizard is as great a hero as Harry Potter." He shuffled out of the room, picking up the tray._

 

Albus wasn't sure when the memory faded into a dream, but suddenly he was immersed into a new vision. It was familiar, but it was newer this time.

 

_"I've visited Gregory Goyle and Anastasia Selwyn."_

_Draco Malfoy was pacing down up and down in his bedroom, nervously; he was also soaking wet, his white-blond hair plastered to his skull, his cloak dripping. Astoria was brushing her long brown hair into a single braid down her back, the white streak glimmering in the candlelight._

_"They both say they, too, have felt the burn. After they tried to kill me, of course," he added sarcastically. "They were scared. They both thought it might have been me. I would never. My parents fear even more than Goyle and Selwyn. They have taken a journey to Spain, just in case, but of course it looks like a leisurely vacation to everyone else. Dolores Umbridge was not made a Death Eater. I almost wish she had been. It would be a suitable punishment for all she's done."_

_"I never liked her," said Astoria. "She always had a slightly mad look in her eye." Her voice was calm, even a little amused._

_"How can you joke at a time like this?" demanded Draco._

_"It's three in the morning, my dear. I'm not entirely rational at this hour."_

_"I told you not to wait up for me."_

_"And you really expected me to obey? My dear, I love you very much, but I am not the same doormat your mother was to your father." Astoria smiled at Draco. "You're wet through, though. I presume you also made another visit?"_

_"I went to Godric's Hollow," said Draco quietly._

_"And?" pressed Astoria._

_There was a pause._

_"Nothing," said Draco quietly. "Potter didn't try to hex me, as Goyle and Selwyn did. His wife looked like she wanted to. She was the Weasley girl, you remember her?"_

_"Not particularly. She was a year older than me, and in Gryffindor. I wasn't in her circle at all." Astoria shrugged._

_"They have a little girl, about eight or nine," said Draco. "The very image of her mother. She wanted to listen in, but her mother made her go back to bed. I talked to Potter, and he told me that after the Dark Lord's death he had never had a pain in his scar. He told me that the connection was gone after Voldemort's death."_

_"Why?" said Astoria, her brow wrinkling._

_"He told me a little about it," said Draco reluctantly. "He told me that it had to do with his mother's sacrifice for him and some other things. The Horcruxes. He was connected to them, or some such thing. But he isn't a reliable way to know if there's a problem anymore."_

_"You need to talk to someone who knew who all the Death Eaters were, if you want to get anywhere with this," said Astoria firmly. "You're going to have to ask your father about it."_

_"We don't talk much about the Death Eater days," said Draco, and there was a little bit of humor in his voice. "Those are better left alone."_

_"Well, you're going to have to ask him if he has a complete list." Astoria stood up and tugged at Draco's wet cloak. "Get changed. I've drawn up a hot bath for you, you need it."_

_"I really don't even begin to deserve you," said Draco, and something like affection came into his eyes. Albus could understand where Scorpius's apparent lack of emotion came from. Draco barely showed any._

_"No, you don't," agreed Astoria, with a mocking smile. "But you were the one I wanted, my dear, so you were the one I got."_

_"And I thought I was the spoiled rich child," murmured Draco._

_Astoria laughed. "Go take your bath. Since you are safe and sound, I will indeed go to bed, and you had better join me soon. You need your sleep."_

_"That I will. Thank you." He kissed his wife on the cheek and disappeared through a door on the side of the room. Astoria got into bed and pulled the blankets up._

_But that was the same night as the other dream, thought Albus, confused. Am I seeing the past, or the present? Or could I even be seeing the future?_

_He remembered asking his dad if there were little bits of Horcrux in them, and his father had said no. But now Albus wondered if maybe they hadn't gotten little bits of Horcrux, maybe even parts of it that were good, after all. He was half a Parseltongue and had funny dreams. Maybe there was something there._


	8. An Agreement and Favors Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose and Scorpius finally have a chat about their relationship. (That sounds so perverted, but I just mean the thing about how Rose hates Scorpius and stuff)

Chapter Eight: An Agreement and Favors Owed (Rose)

 

"Think fast!"

Rose whirled around and batted the snowball down with her gloved hand.

"Nice reflexes," said Albus, laughing and grabbing another handful of snow. "It's beautiful out, isn't it?"

It had snowed the evening previous. Rose was taking a walk in the snow to clear her head after spending an hour and a half in Potions with the murky, musty smell of smoke and damp and potions and rat spleens and the sickly, sweetly unpleasant tones of Professor Lympsham. As always, Professor Lympsham had spoken kindly only to Norah, because Norah was so brilliant at Potions. Rose had watched with a slight jealousy as Norah finished her potion to the exact shade of turquoise sought after by the glossy picture in the textbook; her own potion had been green instead, which meant she had let it burn a little bit. Professor Lympsham had stopped at Rose's potion with a sneer and said,

"And what is this supposed to be, Miss Weasley?"

There was such a difference in the way Matthias would say it and the way Professor Lympsham said it, thought Miss Weasley herself, and the difference was that Matthias meant to be condescending but didn't succeed with Rose because she knew he was joking, but Professor Lympsham only had to look at you for you to know she was being condescending.

"A Pepperup Potion, Professor Lympsham," Rose had replied quietly.

"Is this the color described and shown in the book?" Professor Lympsham had said sweetly.

"No, Professor."

"Why is it the wrong color, Miss Weasley?"

"I accidentally let it burn a little," said Rose.

"If you know what you did wrong, then you oughtn't to have done it," said Professor Lympsham. There was a look on her face that appeared to be taking a fierce pleasure out of belittling Rose.

Rose heard Claire giggling at the next table, and she had had to bite her lip to keep from sending a whispered curse the other girl's way.

"Professor Lympsham," said Norah suddenly, "I have a question about the Pepperup Potion essay and about possibly helping Madam Pomfrey brew some of it."

"Why, yes," said Professor Lympsham, turning away from Rose. "I can answer your questions." She turned to Norah and explained about donating brewed Pepperup Potions to Madam Pomfrey.

Rose was grateful to Norah, but she still didn't much like the way Professor Lympsham had treated her.

"Rose?"

Albus was waving his hand in front of her face. "Hello, Rose? Are you listening?"

"No, I'm sorry, I was preoccupied," said Rose guiltily.

"That's quite all right," said Albus. "How was Potions?"

"Awful," said Rose firmly. "Professor Lympsham hates me."

"She hates everyone, don't take it personally."

"Not Norah."

"True."

"And I imagine she favors her House," added Rose disgustedly.

"Most of them, yes," said Albus. "But not Scorpius." He sounded kind of sad.

Rose didn't really want to hear anymore about Scorpius than Matthias Hale had already given her to think about, but she knew that Albus wanted to talk to her. He wouldn't have come outside in the cold, six inches deep in snow, just to say hello, when he could do that any old time. So she said, "Why not?"

"I don't know," said Albus. "But I know that she doesn't like him at all. She might even hate him. She just gets this look in her eye when she sees him, a little look that sort of chills my blood a little bit. She has to give him decent grades, because he does pretty good work, but she marks him as low as she possibly can. I wish we knew why."

"How old is Professor Lympsham?" asked Rose.

"I have no idea. She doesn't look very old."

"Maybe she knew Scorpius's mum or dad and she didn't like one of _them_ , so she's taking it out on Scorpius," said Rose.

Albus frowned. "Maybe, but it doesn't seem likely. She looks way younger than Draco Malfoy. And teachers are supposed to be unbiased."

"Supposed to be, but usually aren't. And you only saw Draco Malfoy once," said Rose.

Albus opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"What?"

He sighed. "I've been having really weird dreams, Rose. Two big ones, and since then a _lot_ of little ones. And they're so vivid I think they must be real."

"Tell me," ordered Rose.

Albus told her about his two nighttime visits to Malfoy Manor and what Draco and Astoria Malfoy had talked about, and how Draco had gone to see Harry at Godric's Hollow. He told her about the little dreams since, flashes of the face by the fireplace, the one that looked oddly like Professor Hale and yet more sinister.

"That's ridiculous," said Rose flatly. "Voldemort's dead. The Dark Marks don't burn anymore."

"How could I have dreamed one dream in two parts?" demanded Albus. "They flowed right into each other. And anyway, what about me seeing Professor Hale's face? Do you think he might have something to do with it?"

"He was a Ravenclaw when he was in school," said Rose. "I highly doubt _he_ was a Death Eater."

"That's not fair, Rose." Albus scowled at her. "Just because Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater for about a year before the end of the war doesn't mean that Scorpius is a bad person."

"Did I say that?" demanded Rose, feeling her ears turning crimson with rising anger.

"No, but you were thinking it."

He was right, but Rose was determined. "I don't like him and I don't trust him or his dad, Al. And I don't think you should, either."

"If you're going to be unpleasant, I'm going inside," said Albus firmly, "and we can just forget this conversation the next time we see each other and start over again." He walked away. His back was rigid with anger, his fists were clenched. Rose watched him go. Fine. _She_ certainly didn't care if Albus was mad at her. She just didn't like Scorpius. Nothing to make a fuss about.

She had a whole hour and a half until lunch. She knew Albus was headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Scorpius, and she had no desire to apologize just yet. She was in a foul mood. A ready-to-attack-someone kind of mood.

"Rose," said someone gently.

It was Norah, and she placed one hand on Rose's shoulder and said, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was looking for you, and it sounded like the kind of thing I ought not to interrupt."

So she had heard. Rose let her shoulders slump a little. "What do you think?"

Norah studied her, then said quietly, "Don't bite my head off for saying this, but Albus is right. You're very quick to judge Scorpius."

"Quick to judge," said Rose. "What does that mean? Albus was pretty quick to judge that Scorpius was his friend. I'm sure Scorpius is very nice to Albus, but that doesn't mean _I_ have to like him."

"I didn't say you should."

Rose looked at Norah.

Norah sighed. She brushed the snow off a large rock by the side of the path and sat, then patted it with a nod to Rose. Rose joined her.

"I'm not saying you have to like Scorpius," said Norah. "I'm really not. But maybe you could sort of, well, at least be civil to him."

"Be civil. Civil as in not deliberately offensive? I can do that," said Rose.

"I think sometimes you deliberately offend people in a way that makes them think it's not deliberate," said Norah with a smile. "They think, 'Oh, she probably didn't mean to say that.' You always know what you're saying, Rose. What I mean is that you don't say anything mean to or about Scorpius. Not to his face, not behind his back. A show of solidarity, I guess you could call it. Unless it's just the two of us, and you really want to complain about him. I can listen to that. But in front of Albus and Scorpius and everyone else, you should be nice, or if you can't manage that at least don't be mean at all."

Rose thought about it. "So what you're saying is that I ought to give him a chance?"

"You don't have to, in your own head," said Norah. "But for Albus's sake, and I think maybe Scorpius's sake as well, you should do what you can to treat him as you would... I don't know, my friend Sunshine, or Rory Finnegan, or Albus's friend Alaric. Like any other person."

"Like, I don't know, Brendan Chifferdon, or Phil Stanislaus?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Okay," said Rose slowly. "I think I could do that."

" _Will_ you do it?"

"Of course," said Rose. "If you think I should. Your opinion means a lot to me. It's just Scorpius's opinion I don't care for. What I want to know is why I should pretend to be his friend. I don't like living a lie."

"Because it would mean a lot to Albus. He's Scorpius's friend, no matter what you think of either of them. If you decided you were never going to speak to Albus again until he stopped being friends with Scorpius, you would never speak to Albus again. Albus doesn't give up on friends, even if and especially not if other people ridicule him for it. He doesn't care about Houses."

"Neither do I," said Rose indignantly. "I would hate Scorpius Malfoy whether he was a Slytherin or a Gryffindor or if he went to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. I don't like him _regardless_ of his House."

Norah laughed. "That's what I thought you'd say. After all, it would be odd for someone who discriminates by House to be friends with a Hufflepuff girl and a Gryffindor boy."

"I'm not friends with those people," scoffed Rose. "I'm friends with Norah Longbottom and my cousin Albus Potter. And I guess I can pretend to be Scorpius Malfoy's friend, too. Much good will it do me, I'm sure."

"You might be surprised," said Norah, getting to her feet. "Do you want to study for Herbology with me?"

"Don't you mean, 'Do you want to relearn the Herbology lesson from last time before you go to class, while I patiently review things I already know?'" teased Rose. "And yes, I would love to."

"Actually, I do need to study," said Norah with a straight face. "I got ninety-nine points out of a hundred on the last essay. I'm definitely slacking here."

They both laughed, and walked back down the path to the school.

 They passed the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the way up to Ravenclaw Tower, where they were headed, and Rose paused to watch the classroom through the window. The window had been built after the Battle of Hogwarts; half the school had been rebuilt, and windows had been installed in the larger classrooms so that dignitaries such as the Minister of Magic and the school governors could watch lessons without disturbing the teachers. The windows were invisible from the inside, so that students wouldn't be distracted.

Albus and Scorpius stood facing each other with raised wands, as did many of the other students. They were working in pairs. Rose couldn't hear, but Professor Hale must have given the order, because both boys, in addition to the other students, shouted something at the same time, and suddenly Albus went flying backwards. Other students did, on both sides of the lines. Scorpius looked alarmed, and rushed forwards to help Albus up, but Albus had landed on a mattress. There were mattresses everywhere. And Albus was not hurt. He was laughing, accepting Scorpius's help in pulling him up.

"We worked on the Knockback Jinx yesterday," said Norah interestedly. "That was pretty fun."

"Sure," agreed Rose.

She watched them spar, Scorpius always hitting Albus but also helping him up, until Professor Hale came along, smiled at both of them, and said something to Scorpius. Scorpius nodded, let his wand fall to his side, and waited. Albus cast the spell. Scorpius flew backwards and landed on a mattress, and this time Albus went to help him up.

"Do you still want to study?" Norah asked her.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Rose turned away from the window, but secretly she owned that she had seen few sights more satisfying than Scorpius Malfoy flying backwards and landing on his backside on a rickety old mattress with his perfect hair going everywhere. But she did not express this to Norah. If she was going to pretend to be nice to Scorpius, she was going to do it with everyone. And he was good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, too. She had to respect that.

Rose and Norah studied diligently until lunch, and then they walked down to the Great Hall. Rose bid Norah good-bye and was about to join Victoire and Dominique, as she usually did, but something caught her eye. Albus and Scorpius were sitting together at the Gryffindor table, and Norah was heading towards them.

She hesitated, then followed Norah over to the table and sat down next to Norah, across from Albus.

"Hey, Rose," said Norah.

"Hello again, Norah," said Rose. "Hello, Albus." She tried not to grit her teeth, and added, "Hello, Scorpius."

She didn't look at any of them as she dished chicken Parmesan, pasta, and broccoli onto her plate. It would just draw attention to the change she had steeled herself to make.

There was a pause, and then Albus said cheerfully, "Hello, Rose. You seem chipper."

"I am," said Rose cheerfully. As cheerfully as she could, anyway. It wasn't terribly cheerful, but it would do. "I had a lovely time studying with Norah for Herbology and I have a whole hour and a half to mess it all up in my brain again before class." She buttered a roll.

"You're not that bad at Herbology," protested Norah.

"Oh, yes, I am," said Rose. "They all look like plants to me. I can't really tell the difference."

There was a moment of quiet, and then Scorpius said quietly, "At least, not unless you poke it with a stick to see what it does."

Rose snapped her head up to glare at him, but he was just looking at her, and there was something funny in his sharp grey eyes, something just plain funny. And then she realized it was exactly that. Funny. He had been joking with her.

"No," she said, as politely as she could. "I don't even do _that_. I just stare helplessly at it until it tries to strangle me, or until Professor Longbottom tells me what it is I'm supposed to be doing."

Albus snorted. "You totally would poke a plant with a stick."

"Only the ones we're allowed to poke with sticks," said Rose with dignity. "And I just need to figure out how I'm supposed to remember which plants are which."

They spoke of other things, and Rose tried not to be surprised when Scorpius spoke to her. Norah always flashed her a smile when Albus and Scorpius weren't looking, to tell her she was being very nice and approachable. Rose already knew she was being very nice and very approachable, so she tried not to show any sign that this behavior was out of the ordinary for her or that it was hard to act in such a manner. After lunch, Albus and Norah left for Herbology, and Rose stood up to leave, but as soon as Albus and Norah were out of earshot Scorpius said, "Wait."

Rose stopped, remembered just in time that she had to be nice to him when he was by himself, too. He caught up to her. He had his bookbag, and Rose had hers. She had planned on going to the library to study more Herbology after lunch.

He fell into step with her, and they walked in awkward silence until suddenly Scorpius said, "You don't have to be nice to me if you don't want to be."

Rose was startled that he had guessed. She thought she had been able to hide it pretty well.

But for Albus and Norah's sake, she would continue the charade. It would have meant nothing if she gave it up now.

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't like me," he said, "and I'm fine with that. You don't have to try."

"I'm not trying," said Rose pleasantly. "You're a very nice person. It just took me a while to get reconciled to you."

His eyes narrowed a little, but he said nothing.

"Is that everything?" she said patiently.

"Why? Do you want me to go away?" There was a defiance in his voice.

"Not necessarily. I was headed to the library." Rose tried not to word the invitation, but she remembered just in time that it would be rude not to. "You're welcome to join me."

"You're doing it again," he mumbled, but he followed her up the stairs to the library.

"Doing what?"

"Lying."

 _I know,_ she wanted to tell him, but she wouldn't let herself. It would hurt Albus and Norah.

They walked to the library in silence, and then, as they sat down, Scorpius said abruptly, "While you're being nice to me, can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"What made the change?"

"Oh, nothing," said Rose. She opened her book. "How do you tell the difference with a Flutterbye bush and a Tangled Thorny?"

"Well, to start with, Flutterbyes don't have thorns, and secondly, you never decide to do anything without a reason," said Scorpius.

Rose was reminded of the way Matthias always knew what she was thinking about things. "How would you know? I haven't said much to you this year."

"I observe," said Scorpius shortly, "and Al talks about you sometimes. You're one of his best friends." He stopped suddenly. "That's it. You still don't like me. There was no change of heart. I should've caught on. You're doing it because Albus probably gave you a hard time about being mean to me. That's it, isn't it?"

 _Not entirely, but yes, mostly._ "If you want to believe that, you can. I'm not going to stop you." She glanced at her Herbology notes and at the book, then sighed. "This is extremely confusing."

Scorpius was still staring at her. The look on his face was not entirely friendly, and Rose realized that he wasn't really sure what to do. _Merlin's pants, I'm turning into Matthias Hale, reading everyone's minds._

Abruptly he leaned over and grabbed her book and studied it, then said, "What you need is Wizarding photography."

"What?"

"You take a Muggle camera, and you enchant it so that it works within Hogwarts, because Muggle things don't work here. Then you boil the film in a potion that will make the pictures move. What you need is Wizarding photographs of the plants you're confused on that are in action. All magical plants do some moving about. You need photographs with labels, and you have a ready-made set of flashcards to review with."

Rose was stunned. "That- that is absolutely brilliant."

"Thank you for the sincere compliment," he said dryly. "I highly doubt you really like me, as if you did you would be sure to use more creative adjectives, rather than insipid ones such as ' _nice_.' You reserve brilliance for people you actually do think are brilliant. Of course, you don't think I'm actually brilliant. Just that my idea is. I can accept that."

 _Right, of course, but you still think I'm lying._ "So where do I get Wizarding photography?"

"Professor Creevey is Muggleborn. Ask him. Also his brother who died in the Battle of Hogwarts was into photography."

"Right. I knew that. How did you know that?"

"Al told me," said Scorpius, but a ghost of a smile flickered around his face. "Also, my father tended to resent all the media attention your uncle got. Colin Creevey was, technically speaking, your uncle's first photographer. A lot of Creevey's prints are famous now, because he died young and there aren't very many."

"Do you like photography?" said Rose, curious now. There had been something almost peaceful in his eyes as he talked about it.

"Not really." He hesitated, then said, "My mother is an amateur photographer. She has her own darkroom in one of the cellars. I used to go down there after my home lessons and watch her develop pictures."

"Like, Muggle photography?"

He gave her a piercing look. "Yes. Are you surprised that my pureblood Slytherin mother, a Malfoy by marriage, would have a Muggle hobby?"

"My grandad loves Muggle stuff," said Rose. "I'm not really surprised, no. And I know how photography works, my mum is a Muggleborn. But she likes to take Muggle things and make them more convenient with magic. Grandad Weasley likes to take apart Muggle things and see what they actually do if you enchant them. I had never heard of wizards in general having plain, straightforward Muggle hobbies, no magic involved."

"I've heard about the flying Ford Anglia," said Scorpius dryly. "Old story. Also a bit of a school legend. Your and Albus's dads, crashing a flying Muggle car into the Whomping Willow. But you seemed surprised that my mother does Muggle photography."

"Not really," said Rose. "Photography is art, no matter whether it's Muggle-made or enchanted. If you love it, you should do it."

"Something we agree on," said Scorpius. "My father thinks it's a waste of time, but my mother loves it, so he puts up with it." He sounded almost sad.

Rose pretended not to notice. She turned a page over in her book, taking it back from Scorpius as she did so. "Rashwigs and Torklips," she read, looking at the pictures. Both of them showed two white bulbs.

"Rashwig is edible, but gives you a rash until after it's boiled. Torklips are poisonous but they grow into very pretty leafy plants."

"There's no such thing as a pretty, leafy plant," mumbled Rose.

"Sure there is," said Scorpius. "You just can't tell the difference between the ugly ones and the pretty ones."

"Can too!"

"Oh, really?" Scorpius grabbed the book back and covered the labels on the two pictures. "Right one. Rashwig or Torklip?"

"Torklip," said Rose, "but I saw the label before you covered it."

  "You really need those photographs," he muttered. "Do you want to go ask Professor Creevey now, or will you do it on your own?"

"I might as well go down," said Rose, shutting her book. "I'm not going to be able to figure any of this out until I do anyway."

She packed her things into her bag; after a moment, Scorpius followed suit, asking brusquely, "Do you want me to come?"

"You don't have to," said Rose. "I mean, I know what to ask for. But I don't care if you want to come."

They left the library, walking side by side in silence. Rose thought it odd that they could hold casual conversation while stationary, but mobility kept them quiet.

They turned a corner, and Rose instantly saw the four people she least wanted to see at that moment, studying for Herbology themselves: her roommates. Claire looked up the moment she heard them; her eyes narrowed with a sort of cruel delight. Branwen's smile was insincere, although at least she had one, and Sam was once again filing her nails. Brittany was actually studying, glancing up at Rose but uninterested enough that she immediately returned to her textbook.

"Hello, Rose," said Claire.

"Hey, Claire," said Rose, forcing a smile onto her face.

"I like your socks."

Rose, immediately self-conscious, glanced down at her socks. She was wearing long grey cotton tights for warmth under her knee-length plaid skirt, but over the tights she wore plain black socks that reached about mid-calf. "Um, thanks."

"They look super retro," said Branwen. "Like, fifties retro." She made no positive or negative qualifier, but Rose knew what they meant, that she looked dowdy and old-fashioned.

"I'm not big into designer jeans and skimpy blouses," she said coldly. "I'd rather spend my money on important things."

There was a silence, as Rose and Scorpius walked away, and then, when they reached the end of the hall, a raucous laugh from the girls reached their ears. Rose gritted her teeth, mortified that Scorpius had witnessed her humiliation.

There was a longer silence, and then, just as they were reaching Professor Creevey's door, Scorpius said quietly, "I imagine that Albus doesn't know how cruel they are to you."

"They aren't cruel," said Rose automatically.

"Sure, sure. Making fun of what you wear or what you look like isn't cruel at _all_. You know, Albus did observe that you never sit with your roommates, or even talk about them, but neither of us conjectured that you were being bullied."

"I don't want to talk about it," snapped Rose, momentarily forgetting the facade of friendliness she had been trying to maintain.

"Oh, _there_ you are," said Scorpius, sounding more amused than sarcastic.

Rose felt irked with herself, then with Scorpius, then with her roommates. She marched over to Professor Creevey's door and rapped on it smartly.

"Come in."

Rose and Scorpius filed into the office. Professor Creevey sat on the floor, sorting through a pile of papers with his wand. Rose guessed he was grading essays.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. Have a seat." He smiled at them, then transferred the whole pile of papers to a corner by the desk with a wave of his wand. "Can I help you?"

Rose explained her dilemma, and Professor Creevey nodded thoughtfully. "All right. Let me just look for something in my room." He vanished back into the second room behind the main office. Rose heard scuffling, bangs, and a muffled swear word, then some more scuffling.

Professor Creevey emerged from his office, holding an ancient Muggle camera. Rose raised her eyebrows.

"This one was my brother's," said Professor Creevey, "so naturally, you can't have it. But I think we can make accommodations." He pointed his wand at the camera and murmured, " _Geminio_."

Instantly, another camera, identical to the first, popped into existance on the desk. Professor Creevey picked up the second one and handed it to Rose. "Here you are, Miss Weasley. Is that everything?"

"Do you have my grade?" asked Rose.

"Certainly," said Professor Creevey. He flicked his wand and summoned a leather tome from the desk, which opened to a fresh-looking page. He studied it for a moment, then said, "You have a ninety-eight in Transfiguration, Miss Weasley. Did you want your grade, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Why not," said Scorpius, looking amused.

"Let me see... you have a ninety-three. If that's everything, I'll see you both tomorrow at some point, I think? Thanks for stopping by."

They left the office. Rose examined the camera, opened the back to check for film, then turned and snapped a picture of Scorpius with a loud whirring sound and a bright flash.

"Still works," he said, wincing.

As they passed her roommates again, Claire called out, in a falsely sweet voice, "Rose, are you and Scorpius _dating_?"

Rose stopped.

"Totally not worth it," said Scorpius warningly.

"Oh, yes it is." Rose turned around and pointed her wand in Claire's general direction, shouting, " _Anteoculatia_!"

A lovely pair of antlers sprouted from Sam's head. Sam shrieked and began clawing at the antlers, yelping, "Oh, my God, get them off! I'm hideous!" Branwen and Brittany went to her aid, but Claire sprung to her feet, drew her wand, and shouted, " _Catacausto_!"

Rose instantly felt pain on her hands and face, a dry, stinging warmth. She dropped her wand from the pain, scrambled to the ground to grab it, winced as the palms of her hands touched things, and picked up her wand carefully and held it between her finger and thumb. Everywhere else was red and blistering.

" _Densaugeo_ ," she gasped, pointing her wand at Claire.

Claire dodged, but the hex hit Brittany, whose two front teeth began to grow dramatically.

"Rose, it's not worth it," said Scorpius patiently.

"Shut up! _Furunculus_!" shouted Rose, whose face was experiencing a painful burning sensation. It was hard to talk. The Pimple Jinx barely missed Claire; it was harder to aim when it hurt to hold your wand. _She picked a good one,_ thought Rose enviously.

Claire sent a hex at her that would have hit her squarely, but Scorpius shoved her out of the way. She went sprawling into the wall and found that the Catacausto jinx had spread to her legs. She didn't want to move. Claire's spell hit Scorpius's left arm, which suddenly bent into a funny shape around the wrist. But he raised his wand arm and shouted,

" _Flipendo_!"

The Knockback Jinx sent Claire hurtling towards the other end of the hallway. Rose wanted to laugh, but her face hurt so badly that she couldn't bear to express any sort of emotion. She was wondering if she could still cast spells.

Branwen raised her wand, but Scorpius flicked his wand at her. " _Rictusempra_!"

The Tickling Charm hit her squarely in the belly, and Branwen collapsed, laughing breathlessly. Brittany was still trying to help Sam, who was still screaming about her antlers. Scorpius glanced at Rose, sighed, and lifted her into a standing position by grabbing her arms above the elbow.

"What are you doing?" said Rose, using her face as little as possible.

"We're going, and with that jinx it would have hurt you to get up by yourself," said Scorpius. "Come on." They rounded the corner, and walked down the stairs to the infirmary. When Madam Pomfrey had healed Rose's burns and Scorpius's wrist, they went outside into the snow, still not talking.

They settled on the rock that Norah had cleared off that morning. Scorpius clambered up to the very top, but Rose settled on a lower seat.

"So," said Scorpius. "About your awful roommates."

Rose winced. "Please don't tell Albus and Norah."

"Why shouldn't I? They would want to know."

"I'm dealing with them," said Rose shortly. "I mean, it's never come to actual wandwork before, but there were no teachers around this time, and they've never been that rude. Openly, anyway."

"Frankly, the person to tell should be Professor Brocklehurst," said Scorpius. "She's your Head of House, isn't she? I bet she could find you a better room."

"I told you, I'm dealing with it," snapped Rose. "Why do you even care anyway? You were right. I still don't like you." She hadn't intended for that to slip out, but it did. She was too distressed to care. "And yes, I was doing it for Albus. It was Norah's idea, though. But I don't like you, and you don't have to like me."

Scorpius sighed. "Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but I prefer it when you talk to me, nice or not. You're better to talk to than a lot of people I know. And it's nice, having a sort-of-friend who isn't always nice. I mean, Albus and Norah are overwhelmingly nice, but I consider you a friend because you would never hold back anything from me that you thought I shouldn't hear. I prefer the insulting honesty and lack of tact to the straight-faced goody-two-shoes who was trying, and pathetically failing, to be my friend."

It was the longest speech she had every heard him make. Rose crossed her arms. "So you're okay when I insult you," she said disbelievingly.

"It's your way of noticing someone's existence," said Scorpius. "You're the kind of person that people want to be noticed by. That's why your roommates are jerks to you. They'd rather you hate them than ignore them."

 _First Matthias, now you,_ thought Rose. "So, are you going to tell Albus and Norah?"

"No," said Scorpius thoughtfully. "But you owe me."

"What do I owe you?"

"I haven't decided," said Scorpius. Rose turned to glare at him; he wore a maddening little smile. "It could be anything. I might not redeem it for a long time."

"You're a sadistic jerk," said Rose, getting great pleasure out of the expression.

"Thank you," said Scorpius. "And if it makes you feel better to be nice to me around Albus and Norah, you can do that. But don't lie about it to me. I'll just be annoyed."

"It's a deal," said Rose.

Scorpius offered his hand to shake, but Rose swung herself abruptly off the rock and said, "We'll be late for Herbology."

They walked off to class, not really friends and not really enemies, at a wary sort of truce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY  
> (ps i say it's too young for shipping but i totally ship them so feel free to ship them and hey i like comments too)


	9. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus goes home for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some content that is not really plot related.

Chapter Nine: Christmas (Albus)

 

Albus was excited to go home. He wanted to see Mum and Dad and Lily. Of course, he couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts in January, but for now he was more excited about Christmas vacation.

The four of them sat in their compartment, the one they had sat in on the way to school. Scorpius slumped over his armrest, staring out the window as the mountains flickered past the train. Norah had taken to wearing her hair down plain, the way Frankie did, but now she put it up into its usual two braids, as they approached King's Cross. Rose was reading one of her textbooks, and Albus regretfully packed his wand into a safe place in his duffel bag where he wouldn't be tempted to use magic during the holidays; he didn't want a Ministry visit, like James had gotten last Christmas.

The mountains and trees turned into one of the small hamlets outside of London, and they ate Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans bought from the trolley as they changed into Muggle apparel. Rose, who liked to wear her knee-length plaid skirts to school like an old-fashioned boarding-school girl, emerged from the bathroom at the end of the train car wearing nice jeans, a blouse, and some little leather boots. She seemed to like the boots, as she kept sticking her feet out after that to admire her ankles. Norah wore jeans and a blouse as well. Albus had just put on jeans and a T-shirt, and kept his jacket next to him. It was beginning to snow, and he knew he would be cold. Rose had a coat, too. Scorpius wore a very formal black pants, white collared shirt, and green sweater. He even had a tie, silver with green stripes.

"Why dress up just to go home?" said Albus.

"Because my father expects it," said Scorpius.

"My dad wore hand-me-downs all through school," said Albus.

"Your dad lived with Muggles," said Scorpius, "not that that's a bad thing, but didn't those Muggles not like him very much?"

Albus nodded. His father rarely talked about his life before Hogwarts. It was not terribly pleasant to hear, either. Occasionally they had a Christmas card from their father's cousin, Dudley Dursley. Albus knew he had second cousins who were Muggles, but he didn't know much about them, just that there were three of them, two boys and a girl, like his own family. Laurence was eight, Tracey was five, and Darrin was two. They were all fat and blond, just like Dudley Dursley. His wife was an insignificant being, overshadowed by the others.

The village was fast turning into a city, and they were in London. Albus remembered about Norah and Scorpius's presents, and opened his duffel bag again. He drew out two small packages and tossed them to their recipients. Norah nearly dropped hers but managed to catch it at the last second.

"Where's mine?" demanded Rose.

"You get yours at Christmas dinner," said Albus, "when we all go to the Burrow for gift exchange." He grinned at Scorpius and Norah. "Happy Christmas."

Scorpius reached into his valise and produced three small, identically wrapped packages, and handed them out. Norah got out three presents as well. Albus placed his presents in his duffel bag and closed it.

"I'm mailing your presents to you," Rose said to Norah and Scorpius. "So expect a tiny, ancient owl with a lot of energy about two days to a week after you get home."

Albus laughed. "You're going to use Pig?"

"We don't have another owl," said Rose, "and he can carry them, they aren't that big or heavy. Dad hinted to Mum in August that he was going to buy her an owl proper for Christmas, since Crookshanks died, so that we can have normal mail."

"Good," said Albus firmly. "If we're all going to write letters to each other over the summer, you'll need a proper owl." He turned to Scorpius and Norah. "Those aren't too fragile, so you can toss them in your bags when you pack again." He had gotten each of them a pack of Chocolate Frog cards without the Frogs; Norah wasn't overly fond of chocolate, and the only kind of candy Scorpius ever ate was Every Flavor Beans. He usually also had a pack of Wrigley's Doublemint at all times. Albus had included the Frogs for Rose. She liked them.

The buildings whizzed past, but Albus could feel the train slowing down. He thought it was amusing how Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, built right into the middle of King's Cross Station, had tracks that led out from the station- in fact, they went right through the Muggle parking lot and over several major roads and also through a skyscraper. Wizards tended to travel as the crow flies, or in this case, enchanted train. They came to a wheezing stop, and Albus, with the others, crowded at the window. He could see a pretty blond woman who had to be Hannah Longbottom, Norah's mother. Then he spotted Draco and Astoria Malfoy, just the same as they were in his dreams. Looking at Draco Malfoy, he could see the same slight, pinched fear he had seen in his night visits to Malfoy Manor. It was all true, then. But he would still ask his father, to be sure.

And there his dad was, standing and waving at him from the platform, one hand in his mum's and the other resting on Lily's shoulder. Lily looked taller, though not much taller, Albus hoped. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione and Hugo were standing with them, and he could see Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, and Uncle Percy and Aunt Aubrey, and Uncle George and Aunt Angelina. They had all come to pick up their children. Of course, he would see them all in a few days anyway, for Christmas dinner at the Burrow.

"Come on," said Albus, turning away from the window. He grabbed his duffel bag and opened the door of the compartment, then remembered Archie's cage as the old, crotchety owl squawked in indignation. All of them grabbed their things and followed him out of the compartment into the hallway. Albus could see his family moving parallel with him, to be there when he came out of the train.

He could see them clearly now, could hear, above the voices and the whistle of the train. He could hear Lily squealing, "Al! Al!" and he could see his mother's smile and his dad's beaming face. He dragged his bag out of the train and set Archie's cage firmly on the ground.

And then he was enfolded by his family, and there was a wonderful sense of home, even though they weren't yet at home. His mum smelled of the perfume she always wore, and his dad had forgotten to shave that morning, because his scruffy chin scraped Albus's forehead but didn't hurt. Lily was hopping around, excited and squealing, because he was home.

"Mum, Dad!" he heard Rose say, and it reminded him of Norah and Scorpius, so he turned to look for them. Norah was hugging her mother, the only family member who didn't live at Hogwarts most of the year. Albus remembered that Mrs. Longbottom was the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron. He waved to Norah as the Longbottoms left, and she shouted, "See you next year!"

Scorpius stood talking with his parents, and Albus, looking at them, realized how much alike them, and yet how different, he was from them. Like both of them, he made no move to hug or show physical affection, but his face was animated, more so than it had ever been when talking to Albus. But Albus wasn't jealous. It was the difference between family and friends.

Scorpius glanced his way, then spoke to his parents briefly and walked towards Albus. Albus detached himself from his parents, saying, "Excuse me," and met Scorpius halfway. He knew that both sets of parents were watching, and he was glad of it.

"Have a good holiday," said Scorpius, and his eyes flickered a little bit. "Happy Christmas to you, too."

"See you next year," said Albus with a grin. "Happy Christmas and Happy New Year, too."

Scorpius smiled back, and it was one of his rare, wide smiles. "Thanks, Albus."

"For what?"

"For making this bearable."

"You're welcome," said Albus. "Thanks to you, too."

Scorpius nodded, and stuck out his hand. Albus shook it, and they returned to their families.

His parents said nothing, but just before they left, Albus turned and looked at the Malfoys, and Astoria was looking directly at him. She nodded once, and it was neither friendly nor unfriendly, just grateful.

James had arrived, too, and they all filed out of Nine-and-Three Quarters with the other Wizarding families, a few at a time, and when they had all crossed the barrier, Harry and Ginny guided the three of them to an empty alleyway and sent the luggage back home with a wave of their wands. James took Ginny's arm, and Albus took Harry's. Lily took both of their parents' arms, and with five pops and a rushing wind, they were gone.

They reached the doorstep of their house. Number three, Hallow's Lane. Although their house was the only house on Hallow's Lane. In fact, Dad had built the house, and the road was a teeny little dirt road that reached the main road between two Muggle houses, nothing more.

The Christmas lights were up on the house; Albus suspected they had gone up that day. It was the twenty-first, and Kreacher, last year, had put the lights up before James came home from Hogwarts and didn't take them down until after he left. Still holding onto each other, the Potters went inside their house.

Albus sighed. It was good to be home. Everything looked the same. There was the pleasant living room with the roomy fireplace, as Harry sometimes talked to Ron through the fireplace when they were discussing Quidditch. The room where the table was was open to the living room, and though it was covered in Harry's paperwork and Ginny's recipe books, it was still a fairly homey, tidy room. The kitchen was the same, yellow walls and white curtains in the windows.

Kreacher came out to greet them, old and bent and wrinkly, with hot chocolate. Albus wasn't that cold, but he accepted it anyway. It was delicious.

 James was running upstairs to check on his things, and Harry called up, "Did you take the Marauder's Map again?"

"Who, me?" said James facetiously.

They all laughed. Lily sat next to Albus on the couch, where he was drinking his hot chocolate, and said quietly, "I missed you, Al."

Albus smiled. "I missed you too, Lils." He really had. He had always gotten along swimmingly with Lily. James sometimes teased both of them, but Albus and Lily had been friends, especially when they had gone to the Muggle school in the village with only a few other Wizarding children.

"My garden went all brown in November, so I've been bored," explained Lily. "The herbs I grow inside are fine, but we don't have fresh tomatoes or cucumbers anymore."

"We can buy them at the supermarket," said Albus, "but I'll get to eat them all summer long."

Lily smiled. "Did you love Hogwarts?" she asked him excitedly.

"It was great," he assured her. "Best four months of my life so far." Harry smiled over at them from the armchair by the fireplace. Albus could hear James rooting around upstairs, and his mother was in the kitchen, probably starting dinner with Kreacher.

"James said the Quidditch team was pathetic," said Lily.

"The Seeker was pathetic," said Albus. "Everyone else was great. Especially James."

"A Chaser in his second year," said Lily reverently. "Only Dad's beaten that." Harry and Albus both laughed.

He told Lily about Hogwarts over the next several days, and sometimes, after Lily had gone to bed, he confided some of the things he had worried about to his father. He couldn't write home about these things, because Ginny read his letters, too, and so did Lily. He didn't want to worry them. But he always knew he could tell his dad anything.

On Christmas Eve he wandered into the little side study where his dad sometimes worked or occasionally watched Muggle television. Never sports or sitcoms; only the news, for possible Wizarding activity.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked his father, as the television began to start advertising.

"Sure thing. Door shut or open?" His father turned off the television.

"Shut, please," said Albus, "and can nobody hear us? Lily definitely shouldn't hear, and I don't know if I want James or Mum to know just yet."

"Sure thing." Harry flicked his wand at the door, which closed. A line of pale red fire appeared briefly around all the edges of the room. "Have a seat."

Albus sat next to his father on the little couch, and asked quietly, "Did Draco Malfoy visit you at three in the morning one night?"

His father looked at him for a moment, then replied with equal quiet, "Yes. How did you know?"

"I had a dream," said Albus. "Well, two of them, actually. And a lot of them since then."

"A dream." Harry closed his eyes, then opened them again. "I used to have dreams, when I was, you know, a Horcrux. I've never have truly vivid dreams since. I imagine this was very vivid."

"He was talking to his wife, in their bedroom," said Albus. "I guess he woke up, and his Dark Mark was burning. He was really scared. He went to talk to a couple of other people- I think it was Goyle and Selwyn-"

"Both on the list of reformed Death Eaters," murmured Harry. "Sorry, go on."

"They were scared too, I guess. They tried to jinx him. He talked to his parents, too. He said they went to Spain or something on a pretend vacation because they were frightened."

"Lucius Malfoy would have very good reason to be scared," said Harry flatly. "Did he visit anyone else?"

"Not that he said. Wait, he mentioned Dolores Umbridge."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he mumbled something. "Was there anything there?"

"She's just in Azkaban, and she apparently isn't a Death Eater."

"Hmmm. I've wondered about that."

"And his wife waited up for him to get back."

"Yes," said Harry. "It was raining here. He was drenched."

"He mentioned he visited you, too, but that you couldn't really help him with it because your scar doesn't ever hurt anymore." Albus, not for the first time, grinned at the lightning bolt on his father's forehead. Harry smiled back, but absently.

"When was that?" asked Albus.

"Mid-November," said Harry.

"Oh," said Albus. That was surprising.

"What?"

"I had the first dream about halfway through October and the second one in the middle of December. And I keep dreaming about a face."

"Which face?" asked Harry. "Do you know?"

"It kind of looks a lot like Professor Hale's face," said Albus, "but it was really odd. Too pale and narrow."

Harry was still and quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Did you tell anyone about the dream?"

"Only Rose. I was going to tell Scorpius, because it was about his parents, but I forgot."

"For now I think that's a good thing," said Harry. "I do trust Draco Malfoy, because of his fear, and because I've saved his life twice, but I don't know if Scorpius will tell his parents."

"Not if I ask him not to," said Albus. "Why do you think I'm dreaming, Dad? What's happening to me?"

Harry suddenly hugged Albus, and Albus felt this overwhelming sense of relief as his father's warmth surrounded him. He was safe here, in his father's arms.

"Nothing is happening to you," said Harry. "It just seems you've inherited one of the things I had when I was, you know, a Horcrux. You see, I used to have dreams all the time, and when my scar hurt, sometimes I had little insights into Voldemort's emotions. But you don't have a magical connection to anybody; you aren't a Horcrux. So what I think is probably happening is that there is some force or other, in the magical world, and sometimes it is coincidental and sometimes it is not, that knows which people are meant to do which things, and this force, or higher power you could call it, kind of like God but not necessarily, has decided that you are to have these dreams about what might be happening with the former Death Eaters." He smiled reassuringly at Albus. "Now, I might write your Professor Hale and ask about it. I might even poke around when I give my guest lecture for the seventh-years. But I want you to promise me something. If you have another dream, write me right away. Do you understand?"

Albus nodded. "I'll tell you."

Harry studied him, then nodded. "Can I ask you something, too?"

"Sure, Dad."

"You're friends with Scorpius, right?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about him."

Albus looked quizzically at his father.

"I grew up disliking Draco Malfoy," explained Harry, "but we didn't make terribly good impressions on one another to begin with. I'm curious as to what made my son friends with his son."

"We sat together on the train to Hogwarts," said Albus.

Harry smiled. "That was how I met Uncle Ron. And Aunt Hermione."

"He couldn't find anywhere to sit because everyone thought he was the son of a turncoat."

Harry snorted.

"That's what I thought, too," said Albus. "But Rose doesn't like him really. I mean, she's a lot nicer to him than she used to be. But she doesn't really like him."

"Do other people like him?"

"Not in his House," said Albus, thinking of the fight in the hallway.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I had wondered about that. And the Longbottom girl, what's her name?"

"Norah."

"That's right, Norah. She's in Hufflepuff, isn't she?"

"Yeah. We're all in a different House." Albus smiled. "But Scorpius is probably my best friend after Rose. And all of you here."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad you have a best friend," he said. "Is he a good person?"

"Yes, he is," said Albus firmly. "He's one of the kindest, most decent people I know. And he doesn't judge people, and he never attacks first when people are mean to him."

"Does he write home much? You wrote us quite a bit," said Harry with a smile.

"He writes home once a week, not as often as me." said Albus, "He doesn't ever complain to his father. He gets beat up all the time by other Slytherins, and everybody is mean to him, but he won't write his dad about it because he says that his dad won't let him solve problems himself. He tries to be very independent."

Harry nodded. "One of my pet peeves about Draco was that you offended him the least little bit and you knew his father would hear about it."

"Scorpius said that his father told him to write if he had any complaints, so he decided he wouldn't," said Albus.

Harry chuckled."Sounds like me." He ruffled Albus's hair. "And now you should go to bed. Tomorrow's Christmas, and we'll be going to the Burrow after we open presents and eat breakfast. Pack a bag, we'll stay for two days."

Albus nodded and went upstairs to bed. He felt strangely comforted. The dreams didn't mean he was a Horcrux, after all. And he wasn't crazy. He would have to tell Rose that they had really happened. And he would have to tell Scorpius, and quite probably Norah as well. He couldn't leave her out of something this important.

The next morning they all opened presents by the tree in the living room. Albus recieved a hand-knitted sweater from Grandmum Molly, scarlet with a golden "A" emblazoned on the chest. James's was brown, with a white "J," and Lily's was pale purple, with a white "L." Ginny's was pale gold, and Harry's was green, as usual. They all had sweets from Mum and Dad and family friends; Kingsley Shacklebolt had sent a gift basket with five boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, one for each of them. They also got a pair of thick, woolly gloves each, from Kreacher, in dreadful colors. But Albus liked his- they were a sort of murky olive green. He put them on, and discovered they were fingerless.

"Kreacher does not understand why people like gloves without fingers," croaked Kreacher. "But it seems to Kreacher as though this is the fashion, so Kreacher has made gloves without fingers for all of the Potters. Also, Kreacher ran out of yarn."

Harry and Ginny presented Kreacher with a new quilt, and he went to his cozy cupboard under the stairs to settle down with it. Kreacher never came to dinners at the Burrow. Ginny gave the elf permission to eat as much food as he wanted while they were gone, and then they all got their bags, put on their Weasley sweaters, and Apparated to the Burrow.

"Happy Christmas!" cried Mr. Weasley, ushering them inside. Harry, wanting his children to remember both sides of their family, had decided that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be Grandad and Grandmum Weasley, and his own parents would be Grandad James and Grandmum Lily. Grandmum Weasley hugged and kissed all of them, then commandeered Ginny to help her with dinner and sent the rest of them on their way.

Since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the war, Mr. Weasley had chosen to remain in his beloved Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department job, but anonymous donors, who Albus strongly suspected were his own parents, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and even Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, had contributed to the raising of Mr. Weasley's slight salary. Because of this, Mr. Weasley was able to afford to enlarge the Burrow somewhat, so that there was room for all of the children-in-law and grandchildren to stay during holidays or just whenever they wanted to visit the Burrow. Uncle Ron and Harry had claimed one of the new rooms in the cellar, claiming that it was warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer, but Ginny and Lily and Aunt Hermione and Rose all stayed in Ginny's old room, and Albus, James, Hugo, and Fred stayed in Ron's old room, at the very top of the house, just under the ghoul.

Uncle Ron's family were already there; Albus grinned at Rose, who waved back. At family functions, Rose often spent time with Lily, as she saw Lily less often than Albus. Albus chose to spend that time with Hugo, likewise.

Hugo was already in Ron's old room; Albus and James set down their things and claimed corners for sleeping bags. Hugo took the bed, as he always did. It was Ron's old room, so Hugo had dibs on the bed. This was a sort of unspoken law. Hugo was a small, friendly chap, with red hair and blue eyes like Ron. He was a little short and very thin as of yet, but he had grown nearly three inches since Albus had seen him at the station to Hogwarts, and Albus suspected that like Uncle Ron had passed Harry in height ages ago, Hugo would pass him up someday as well.

"Happy Christmas," said Hugo cheerfully. He wore a yellow sweater with a grey "H" on it. "Do we have anything planned in the way of mischief?"

Fred walked in at that moment; Albus could hear the chattering voice of Roxanne downstairs, and then the quieter voices of their cousins Molly and Lucy, the daughters of Uncle Percy. Percy's voice was louder. Fred winced and closed the door.

"Somebody say my name?" he said, waggling his eyebrows dramatically.

"His name _is_ mischief," said James solemnly.

"That it is, sonny, and don't you forget. What sort of hijinks are we going to be up to for the next couple of days?"

"Can we set off fireworks after dinner?" said Albus.

"I do have a box of matches," said Fred, producing said box. "I think that would be acceptable. I also like the idea of capturing some of the eternally pestilential garden gnomes and setting them loose in my sister's room."

"There's always the classic bucket of water rigged over a slightly open door," offered James.

"Excellent, but I think we should replace the water with something more colorful," said Fred, grinning devilishly. "Suggestions?"

"Paint," said Hugo.

"Too literal. Also a mess to clean up."

"Vegetables," said James.

"Creative, but no. What I had in mind was Stinksap."

Albus wrinkled his nose. "But then it will smell."

"That's what grownups and wands are for," said Fred with a grin.

They plotted all kinds of pranks in their room; later, they were joined by Louis Weasley, who was only eight. The five of them were the only boys of the Weasley grandchildren; with seven granddaughters, they were well out-numbered. But Rose or Lily usually joined the boys when they split for teams.

As the afternoon proceeded, the scents of Christmas goose and stuffing and mashed potatoes with garlic and gravy began to float upstairs through the house, creating a combined smell that was absolutely irresistable. It was tradition, for Albus and James anyway, to eat a very light lunch or none at all, on Christmas day; that way, they would have room to stuff themselves with Grandmum Weasley's cooking.

They filed downstairs at five-thirty to claim good seats; the girls were all gathered in the living room, off to the side of the enlarged dining room. They were all huddled around a Wizarding magazine Roxanne was holding. Rose and Lily looked bored; so did Molly and Lucy, who were ten and eight years old.

"Pranks?" whispered Louis hopefully.

"Patience, young grasshopper," said Fred. "And anyway, you don't prank the girls collectively. That's like angering a herd of buffalo. You get one at a time."

James and Fred made some strategic placements of certain Christmas crackers that had been smuggled out of the shop at ninety-three Diagon Alley, then seated themselves innocently. Albus switched the tins for black pepper and lemon pepper, and Louis and Hugo, inspired by all the other pranking preparations going on around them, rigged up an admittedly elaborate contraption that would yank the serving fork next to the goose platter off the table when a string was pulled. Even Fred admired it.

Group by group, everyone filed in. Grandad Weasley, with grey in his thinning red hair, but still short and cheerful, took his place at the head of the table. The families filed in to sit in groups; Albus sat between James and Lily, and his parents were across from them. Albus ducked under the table to look for a Sickle he had dropped from his pocket and noticed that they were holding hands.

At long last, the dishes began to float in from the kitchen. First the little things, like the peas-with-mushrooms and the baked corn. Then came baskets of rolls, plates of Brussels sprouts, cooked carrots and green beans, a very small dish of lima beans reserved for Dominique, who actually liked them, and then the pot of gravy, hot as could be. And then came the mashed potatoes with garlic, a huge pot of them, settling right in front of James, Albus, and Lily. The stuffing went to the end of the table, in front of Grandmum Weasley's empty seat, and then, finally, the enormous Christmas goose came floating in, garnished with small roast potatoes and sprigs of parsley, followed by Grandmum Weasley, who beamed as they all clapped for her and the goose, which floated over to the large, empty platter-sized space in front of Grandad Weasley. Grandmum Weasley sat, and Grandad Weasley, with a flick of his wand, carved the goose on the platter. Hugo and Louis looked disappointed that their rig for the serving fork hadn't been used, but they pulled it anyway, and the serving fork vanished.

"Happy Christmas, everyone!" said Grandad Weasley delightedly.

"Happy Christmas!" everyone answered.

And then they began to eat, and Albus remembered to drink a large glass of water before he ate anything- it was a trick Uncle Ron had taught him, one that would stretch his stomach before he ate so that there would be room for more. He took a little of everything except Dominique's lima beans and ate it all, but remembered that there were better things to come, like pie.

The conversations, as was usual at the Burrow, were interesting to listen to. Harry, with Ginny on the one side and Uncle Ron on the other, was talking about work to Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione Rose was listening to them, too.

"And we think it could be Willy Widdershins again, but we're not entirely sure," said Harry. "Remember when he did the regurgitating toilets, before the war? I mean, he's ancient now, but exploding garbage disposals sound like his sort of thing. We've had three Muggles up to St. Mungo's. We can't get at him without a warrant, but Ron and I are going to shadow him the day after New Years."

"Aren't you supposed to leave that kind of field work to the regular Aurors?" interjected Aunt Hermione, amused.

 "Technically, yes, but I am head of the department," said Harry with a grin. Ron chortled. "It's good for me to get out every now and then. Hey, George," he called down the table to Uncle George. "The Aurors were going to order more Shield Hats from you, but I'd to have a chat with you about the designs first. I mean, they're _pink-_ kind of conspicuous for Aurors-"

Albus glanced down the table at Grandmum Weasley, who even twenty years after her oldest son had been married was still eager to mother him. "Bill, your hair is positively atrocious. Fleur, don't you find the ponytail a bit off-putting? And that earring, too!"

 "I like it," said Fleur with a smile. "It makes 'im look adorably roguish." She kissed her husband on the cheek. Bill grinned, which with his scarred face made him look a little more ferocious than amused. Uncle Charlie, sitting next to them, smiled congenially at all of them. The burns on his hands and arms didn't happen as often these days, as he'd returned from fieldwork to become a high-up in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, but he still liked to play with the dangerous beasts every now and then. He always had a bag of Fizzing Whizbees in his pocket that were shared out with whichever of his nieces and nephews he was sitting with. Albus sometimes wondered why Uncle Charlie had never gotten married.

 Uncle George, now arguing good-naturedly with Harry about the design of the Shield Hats and turning his head so that the conversation fell closer to his good ear, had one arm over the back of Aunt Angelina's chair. She was talking with Ginny, next to whom she was sitting, about Quidditch. Albus had never thought it odd that his mother and aunt talked more about sports than his dad and uncles did; after all, his mother had played for the Holyhead Harpies for a few years before she had gotten married to his dad. Angelina had played for the Harpies for a year as well. Both of them still played Quidditch in their community teams; Ginny for the Godric's Hollow Gorgons and Angelina for the Chelmsford Chargers, both of them Chasers.

Uncle Percy was unusually quiet. He sat down at the end of the table near Grandmum Weasley, closer even than Bill and Fleur were. His wife, Aubrey, sat opposite him. She was quiet, too, but Aunt Aubrey was always quiet. She had short, dark hair and big hazel-brown eyes, like a doe. Albus liked Aunt Aubrey because she was sweet and kind and always willing to listen. But he knew why Uncle Percy was being quiet; it was the holidays, and besides remembering some old, stupid fights that had occurred between Uncle Percy and the rest of the Weasleys during holidays, long before Albus was born, he would also be thinking about Uncle Fred. Everyone thought about Uncle Fred during Christmas. It was inevitable, like goose for Christmas dinner or James and Fred playing a joke. Albus knew that Uncle Fred had died while speaking to Uncle Percy, and that Uncle Percy considered it, in a way, his fault. Albus also knew that Uncle George and Uncle Ron and his own father had all tried to shoulder that blame, as they had been there when Uncle Fred died also.

Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were laughing at the discussion of Shield Hats; Albus suspected that like his own parents, they were also holding hands under the table. The four of them, his parents and Rose's, were the youngest of the Weasley children and children-in-law, and they still acted like it sometimes.

James nudged him innocently with his foot. Albus glanced over, then back at his plate. James kicked his chair softly three times, which was pranking code for _joke in place_ , and then poked him twice and tapped his fork on his glass, which earned him a half-amused glare from Ginny. This meant _after the pies._ Fred and James had worked out the code over a long series of family dinners, and they had taught Albus and Hugo the meanings of it. Louis had been educated in the finer intricacies of the code only that afternoon. James then stepped on his foot, which meant _pass to the next recipient_ , which meant Hugo. That was a problem; Hugo was several seats down. Albus solved the problem by excusing himself to use the bathroom and tapping Hugo on the shoulder as he left. When he got out of the bathroom, Hugo was waiting. Albus sent on the message and instructed him to tell Louis, who was the last recipient.

The pies floated out of the kitchen, cherry and apple and mincemeat and coconut cream and pumpkin and a few creative ones, like Chocolate Frog cream pie and key lime with Flutterbye flavoring. And then he caught a glimpse of his favorite, the lemon meringue. It landed in front of him, and Grandmum Weasley winked at him as it landed. She knew it was his favorite.

They all ate pie, and then, stuffed but ready for the plum pudding, Fred reached under the table and did some tinkering with whatever he had to trigger the prank with.

Suddenly, there was a series of loud cracks, and Albus, drawing his feet out from under the table just in time, felt a cool wetness on his knees. All the girls shrieked, and Harry, Ron, and George burst out laughing as the water balloons inside the crackers from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, once pulled, triggered a bunch of pins to pop the balloons. Water went everywhere under the table, but the food and everyone's faces and hair remained untouched. It was a genius prank, designed to keep them mostly out of trouble.

Everyone looked at Fred, who smiled innocently.

"Frederick George," said Angelina darkly, "you are in a huge lot of trouble."

"We were all part of it," said Louis stoutly.

"All of you boys?" said Aunt Hermione severely.

James allowed a devilish grin to slide onto his face. Albus pretended to look at the ceiling, and Hugo whistled a jaunty tune.

"There have evidently been some cahoots," said Uncle George with a grin. "That is a very classy prank. I may have to try that one. How much did you nick from the shop?"

"I paid," protested Fred. "Really. I leave a Galleon under the cash register every time I take something. I probably have a good forty or fifty Galleons of credit, which I may or may not redeem someday."

"Time to build the underground shelter," said James, straight-faced. Everyone laughed.

"Well, the food's not wet," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, shall we get the pudding?"

Everyone agreed, although Fred was still receiving glares from his mother. Grandmum Weasley retrieved the pudding, and Uncle Ron, with a smile, pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and dimmed the lights. Grandmum Weasley uncorked a bottle of firewhisky and poured it over the pudding, then whispered " _Incendio_." The alcohol burned with blue and orange flames, and with a flick from Grandmum Weasley, they went red and green, for Christmas.

Before they ate the pudding, Grandad Weasley stood and cleared his throat.

"Happy Christmas," he said quietly, "and we think of all those who have gone before, and we wish them, wherever they are, a very happy Christmas as well. To my own son, Fred." He raised his glass.

Everyone did the same. "To Fred," they chorused.

"To James and Lily Potter," said Harry; then, meeting his children's eyes, added, "my parents."

"To James and Lily."

"To Sirius," said Ginny.

"To Sirius."

"To Remus and Tonks and also Ted Tonks," said George.

"To Remus and Tonks."

"To Dumbledore," said Ron.

"To Dumbledore."

"To Dobby," said Hermione.

"To Dobby."

Albus opened his mouth and said timidly, "To Regulus Black and Severus Snape."

All of them looked at him, and then Harry, with a smile for his son, nodded. "To Regulus and Severus," he repeated, and everyone else followed suit.

They finished the toasts, and then everyone got to have some of the plum pudding. Fred tried to get a piece with the firewhisky still burning, but Angelina promptly put the fire on his plate out. They ate it, and then after dinner, while Grandmum Weasley and the girl cousins washed dishes, Fred, James, Albus, Hugo, and Louis were all put to work cleaning the underside of the dining room table and the water all over the floor. It didn't take too long, with five of them and it only being water and nothing difficult to clean up, and then they went into the living room which was crowded with people and presents.

Albus went up to his duffel bag to get his presents from Norah and Scorpius and to get the one he was giving to Rose, then hurried back downstairs. He opened a present from Uncle Bill's family, a book on Broom Care with a Broom Care kit, like his father's kit. From Uncle Charlie he had a big bag of Every Flavor Beans, a whole pound of them. Ginny winced when she saw this. "Brush your teeth," she reminded Albus.

"I do, every day," he told her. "Not brushing your teeth doesn't feel nice."

From Uncle Percy's family he had a dull book called _Prefects at Hogwarts and Their Great Accomplishments_. He had to smile at this; after Teddy Lupin, Fred, and James, none of whom were what you could call prefect material, he was expected to be a prefect at some point. It could yet happen.

From Uncle George's family he got a mixed box of Extendable Ears, Decoy Detonators, Peruvian Blackness Powder, and a Shield Hat. James got the same kit, and Albus grimaced at all the things his brother would manage to get up to with those tools. From Uncle Ron's family he got a bag with a package of Owl Treats for Archie, a smaller package of Every Flavor Beans, a broom compass, and a small notebook full of writing. All of the cousins got one of these notebooks. He noticed that Aunt Hermione looked a little worried.

"What are these?" asked Victoire, studying her notebook. "Spells?"

"They're a list of some of the spells Hermione's invented over the years," said Ron easily, slipping an arm around his wife. "I'm going to deliver a warning to you, about these spells, because she wants me to. We'll humor her, because even though it's ridiculous, it will make her feel better." He winced as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "These are not Ministry-registered spells. Therefore, you need to be careful not to use them around teachers. Some of these are also pulled from Severus Snape's collection of unregistered spells, but most of them are Hermione's. There are quite a lot. If you invent your own spell, feel free to write it in."

Albus, interested, thumbed through the book. " _Levicorpus_ ," he murmured. "Nonverbal only?"

"Good spell," said Harry with a smile. "My dad used to use that one. Ron, Hermione, I hope you didn't include, ahem, that one spell that Severus Snape marked 'for enemies.'"

"Absolutely not," said Hermione quickly. "Some things are better left alone, after all."

"What spell was it?" said Albus interestedly.

"It was more or less dark magic," said Harry, "and I nearly killed Draco Malfoy with it once. In my defense, he tried to kill me, too, but it was a mistake to have used the spell I did. I used it without knowing what it did, and it had terrible consequences."

"Like what?" said James.

"Like huge bleeding gashes all over his body," said Harry severely. "It's not included, and don't think you can dig it out of one of us. That will remain a secret."

"That spell took my ear off," remarked Uncle George, his hand going up to the side of his head. "I can still hear when Angelina's mad at me, though. More's the pity." He dodged a swat from his wife.

Albus found Rose, as the grownups were settling in to talk and the teenagers and children to find somewhere else to play. He gave her the present he had brought down for her. "Happy Christmas, Rose," he said.

"Happy Christmas," she said, and then added in a rush, "Listen, I'm sorry about- about being mean to Scorpius, and about thinking your dream was a load of rubbish. I mean, I'm still not sure it's true, but I'm sorry I said what I did."

"It's okay," said Albus. "I forgive you. I'll tell you though, I asked Dad about it."

Rose's eyes sharpened. "And what did he say?"

Albus took a deep breath. "I dreamed it," he told her, "but it _did_ happen. It was a real dream. Draco Malfoy came to Godric's Hollow at three in the morning in the middle of November to talk to Dad about the Dark Mark and Dad's scar. There's something happening in the world."

"Voldemort's not back," said Rose flatly. "He's dead."

"Yeah."

"So we can probably assume that one of the surviving Death Eaters is prodding their Dark Mark, either just to scare the others, or to try and revive the others."

It was logical. Albus shuddered.

"We can talk to Norah and Scorpius about it when we go back," said Rose, unusually gently for her. "They should know. They're our friends. Our circle. We don't need to keep secrets from them." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a package, neatly wrapped. "For you. Happy Christmas, Al." She hugged him, then joined Lily, Dominique, and Victoire as they went downstairs to the room where the girls were playing charades, or some such thing.

Albus smiled, then opened his three presents. Norah's, small and wrapped in pale yellow tissue paper, was a gift card for the broom store in Diagon Alley. He grinned. Norah knew him pretty well. Scorpius's present was wrapped in plain brown paper, and it turned out to be a Pocket Sneakoscope. Rose's present was a stack of photos, taken with the ancient Muggle camera she had gotten from Professor Creevey. She had gone crazy with the camera after she had gotten it, using it for all kinds of pictures besides the ones she needed for Herbology. There were pictures of Norah, pictures of Scorpius, pictures of Rose, and pictures of himself, and there was one picture, at the very end, that she must have had someone else take, because it had all four of them. All of the photos moved; either the camera was enchanted or the film was boiled in potion. The one with all of them had been taken in the great hall. All of them smiled and waved at him as he looked at the photo.

Of the three presents, he knew which one he liked the best.

Albus smiled back, and went upstairs to put his things away. "Happy Christmas," he said to nobody in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL OF THE FLUFF FOR YOU GUYS YOU ROCK  
> Also number 3, Hallows Lane, u c wut i did thurr


	10. Boy Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose has to deal with things that eleven-year-olds shouldn't really have to deal with because why would eleven-year-olds be dating anyway and you can tell I have a personal soapbox about this ugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret everything. Except maybe this chapter.

Chapter Ten: Boy Problems (Rose)

 

It was kind of an off day for Rose; she hadn't had very many off days since that one day in October, when the Devil's Snare had very nearly killed her. She remembered relating this experience to her parents, and the looks of horrified exasperation they had exchanged, and then the subsequent reminiscing about a Devil's Snare that they, too, had encountered in their first year of Hogwarts.

But her day had not been wonderful, and it wasn't going to be getting any better, Rose saw, as she sat down with Victoire at lunch. Dominique was eating with Roxanne and Frankie, as she sometimes did. And Victoire was determinedly ignoring a few boys her age down the table, all of whom were staring at her.

"Take points off them," suggested Rose.

"I wish I could," said Victoire with a sigh, "but I had to have a strongly worded chat with Professor Brocklehurst a month into being a prefect, because I was telling people off for checking me out and as annoying as it is, it isn't sexual harassment if they don't say anything and therefore it's not against the rules. Sometimes I wish I weren't pretty."

"No, you don't," said Rose at once. "It's a blessing. From the other side of the coin I can tell you it's better to be pretty." She ladled herself a bowl of stew and started to eat.

"What, you don't think you're pretty?" said Victoire, surprised. "And here I thought you knew and were just ignoring them!"

"What? Ignoring who?"

Victoire stared at her for a second, then laughed. "Seriously, you don't know?"

"No, I don't, and you should tell me what you're talking about," said Rose, utterly confused.

Victoire sat up straight and scanned the length of the Ravenclaw table, then turned back to look at Rose. "Of the boys in your year, I've noticed three of them who look at you periodically."

Rose squinted down the table until she spotted the boys in her year. She didn't talk to them much, as she usually sat with Albus, Norah, and Scorpius in class. There was Chance, tall and confident and somewhat annoying, always talking about Quidditch and acting like he knew a lot about it and then doing simply awful in Flying lessons. There was Ellius, also tall but much quieter, too quiet in fact, somewhat timid. Then there was the Tullivan twins, identical twins who were somehow named Phinehas and Phocas but she couldn't tell them apart even if she tried. The fifth boy was the nice one, the one who had told her good job the first night they went up to Ravenclaw Tower and Rose answered the eagle's riddle to get into the dorms. What was his name... Chase... Colin... Casey... Caden. Caden Montgomery, that was him. He was very nice and very friendly and he usually sat with Chance and Ellius in lessons. Suddenly he glanced her way, then promptly turned to look at his lunch.

"Which ones?" she said to Victoire, looking away as well.

 "The loud one, the cute one, and one of the twins," said Victoire. "And I'm just getting warmed up. Zane Churchill and Will Doran, second years, were discussing girls in a very quiet corner of the dormitory. I was on my Head Girl shift but when I go on duty I wear headphones like I'm listening to the Weird Sisters, or Toil and Trouble, on my wireless Wizarding pocket radio, and I can eavesdrop on all kinds of conversations. Anyway, Zane and Will were discussing girls, very quietly, and they mentioned Dom and I of course, but them Zane said rather skeptically, 'What about girls in our league?' and then Will mentioned your bratty little roommate Sam, but then you were mentioned, and both of them agreed that you were, to use their very refined term, 'playground hot,' which I understand means attractive in a very young way, or pretty like a little girl."

Rose blinked. "Anyone else?" she said sarcastically.

"Well, I did notice you're friends with Matthias Hale," said Victoire seriously. "Out of sheer curiosity, what's he like?"

"Odd," said Rose truthfully. "And pleasant to talk to, in an unpleasant sort of way. He muddles my brain around with big words and reading my mind and things. I'd rather not discuss him. He annoys me. How's Teddy?"

Victoire flushed, and a little dimpling smile appeared on her face. Not for the first time, Rose wished she were as pretty as Uncle Bill's wife and daughters. "Teddy's doing great," she said with a smile. "Of course, it's pretty dull at Mrs. Tonks' place, but he says he visits Hallows Lane a lot. He misses James and Albus, but he keeps Lily entertained, and he likes to talk about Remus and Tonks with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny."

"It's funny," said Rose, "we all still call her Tonks even though she's dead. Wouldn't it be more respectful to call her by her name?"

"Nymphadora," said Victoire, "and she hated it, so no. She preferred Tonks. I wonder if Teddy would have called her Tonks, too." The dreamy expression returned to her face. Rose patiently allowed her a few moments of daydreaming before she cleared her throat and asked, "Didn't he get a job with the Aurors?"

"Yes," said Victoire, "sort of. It's on a trial basis. He failed the the primary test to get into the Auror program, even though his N.E.W.T.s were very good. But it was just barely a fail, he missed one question that would have gotten him a passing grade. And they were really impressed with him and especially with the whole Metamorphagus thing, and I think they were remembering Tonks and how useful she was, too. So they let him in on a week-by-week trial basis. I think your dad might be training him, actually. Uncle Harry would have done it but he's the head and has a lot of work to do. So Uncle Ron is working with Teddy."

"That's right," said Rose. "Teddy's a Metamorphagus. Did he come visit over Christmas?" She took a spoonful of stew.

"Actually, I think he was at Malfoy Manor for Christmas," said Victoire vaguely.

Rose choked on her stew and spat it back into the spoon. " _Malfoy Manor_?" she said disbelievingly.

"Oh, yes," said Victoire. "After the war Mrs. Tonks got back in touch with her sister Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. They don't visit each other much, but they write a lot. And since Mrs. Tonks was raising Teddy, he got to know the Malfoys. He says they're not too bad, but they don't talk to him much, as long as he stays out of trouble."

"Which for Teddy is like not breathing," said Rose.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it." But her tone was affectionate. Rose hoped someday she would love someone like Victoire loved Teddy.

"Speaking of Malfoy Manor," said Victore, "and of boys who think you're attractive, I was curious about your friend Scorpius."

Rose almost winced but managed to keep her face straight. "We're just friends," she said nonchalantly. "He's more Al's friend than mine."

"Yes, but if you look at him, you can tell he's going to be cute when he's older," said Victoire speculatively, glancing past Rose at the Slytherin table. Rose didn't look, instead eating more stew. "Don't you think?"

"If his dad is any indication, then no," said Rose.

"But he doesn't really look like his dad did," said Victoire. "I've seen pictures of younger Draco Malfoy, when he was in school with Uncle Harry and all that. He used to have a kind of sneering look on his face, and it's made him look a lot older than he really is. Scorpius doesn't have that. He always looks calm."

"Maybe," said Rose, letting a tone of disinterest slide into her voice. She didn't often do that, try and change the subject with nuances, but she didn't want to talk about Scorpius becoming attractive, and she didn't want to talk about the fact that she didn't want to talk about Scorpius becoming attractive. "So what kind of trial run is Teddy on, for the Aurors? Dad didn't tell me about that."

They kept talking about Aurors and Teddy for the duration of lunch, after which Victoire rushed to her Arithmancy class and Rose headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts, meeting Norah on the way.

Her first thought on walking into that class was that Professor Hale looked ill. Not regular illness, with a pale face or a flushed one. Not sweaty and feverish, not thin and underfed. He just looked tired, and the shadows under his eyes were a cloudy, smudgy purple-gray of bruise. Professor Hale was already pale, as was his younger brother Matthias, but the darkness under his eyes made him seem more so. And he was thinner, decided Rose.

"Pair up," he said, as the bell rang. "We're going to be practicing a rather fun hex today. Some people like to call this one the 'Curse of the Bogies,' and it sounds all grand that way, but the Ministry-regulated name for it is just the Bogey Curse."

"He looks ill," whispered Norah, concerned.

"So it's not just me?" murmured Rose in reply.

Norah shook her head. "No, he looks downright faint. Like he's going to fall over or something."

Rose nodded.

"Generally speaking, it's not a very nice spell to use on others," continued Professor Hale, "but when you encounter a troll, or a giant, it's a very effective little spell that will distract your target while you get away or form a new plan. What the spell does is that it gives the victim a severe cold and a very runny nose. I had planned to teach this one a little later in the year, as it's a bit harder to master than some of the spells we should be learning right now, but I realized that teaching it in my original schedule would place it right in the middle of allergy season, late April and early May. And a cold in allergy season is less pleasant than a cold in January, when you would expect one."

 Rose grimaced. She was allergic to a lot of the wild grasses that grew around the Muggle school she had gone to before Hogwarts, and she had spent a lot of time in the nurse's office with an inhaler before her mother would arrive at the school and put the allergies at bay with a Pepperup Potion, which usually seemed to work but gave Rose the impression that she was walking in steam for hours afterwards.

"Therefore, the only way to cure the Bogey Curse, at this point, is for me to perform the countercurse, or for another adult to perform the countercurse, or for you to take a Pepperup Potion." Professor Hale indicated a row of paper cups on the table. "There are twenty cups here, and each contains a small amount of Pepperup Potion, enough to cure you of a mild cold. Since it's our first day on the spell, I don't expect we'll need much of it, but should you manage to perform a successful Bogey Curse on someone, that person should walk over here and drink from a cup. They're all labeled by name. Only drink from your cup, and don't throw it away when you're done, I can refill them."

Claire raised her hand.

"Miss Connolly," said Professor Hale, nodding to her.

"What's the incantation?"

"I was just getting to that." He smiled, and what with his aura of illness and tiredness, Rose wondered if he hadn't been laid victim to a Bogey Curse as well. But his nose wasn't running. "The incantation, appropriately enough, is _Mucus ad Nauseam_. Everyone say it with me-"

"- Mucus ad Nauseam," echoed the class.

"Very good, and one more time."

"Mucus ad Nauseam."

"Excellent. Ten points to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff apiece. Pair up, and," he said, watching them move with a frown, "partner with someone new. I've noticed you end up hexing a lot of the same people every class period, and you should get to know other people's wandwork. It's not as though you'll always fight the same person."

"Not unless you're Harry Potter," someone joked.

"Oi," said Rose, "that's my uncle you're talking about." She was somewhat serious; she didn't like those sort of jokes. But she said it good-naturedly enough that everyone laughed.

Norah moved to work with Sunshine; usually Norah worked with Rose, being willing to even out the fact that there was an odd number of girls in every House. Now Rose was faced with working with one of her roommates or one of the Hufflepuff girls; but Branwen had already moved to work with Sam, and Claire was on the other side of the room, standing with Brianne Toberley, so Rose was left to work with Brittany, her curly-haired, talkative roommate who, compared to the others, was by far the nicest.

Brittany didn't seem to mind working with her though; as they faced off like the rest of the class, Professor Hale organizing them into two lines, she said, "Hey, Rose, remember when we like, talked to you about Matthias?"

"Sure," said Rose, wary for any kind of trap.

"How is he?" she said.

Rose stared at Brittany for a second. Her eyes were open, bright, interested. Rose could read her like a book, and there was nothing suspicious about her. Rose also knew that Brittany was smart, because she had after all been put into Ravenclaw, but she also knew that Brittany's kind of intelligence was wider than it was high.

"He's okay, I guess," said Rose.

Brittany smiled. "Did he tell you, like, who he likes?"

"No," said Rose. She found herself smiling back. "He tells me I wouldn't understand that kind of thing a lot. That I'm just a little kid. Which I guess I am. But I can wait."

She felt strangely guilty about the lie. Brittany was asking out of curiosity and a desire to stay current with gossip, not out of any malicious need to taunt someone who she didn't like.

"All right, go ahead," called Professor Hale, standing at the end of the line. Rose noticed that he was sitting on the edge of his desk and making it look as though he were standing, as though he couldn't stand up straight.

" _Mucus ad Nauseam,_ " said Brittany, and Rose felt a light rush of wind over her face. A couple of green sparks jumped from the edge of the other girl's wand, but nothing happened to Rose. If anything, her nose felt drier.

"My turn?" said Rose. Brittany nodded. " _Mucus ad Nauseam._ "

A jet of green light burst from her wand, but like the physical manifestation of its incantation, it flopped to the ground and lay there, like slime from a bucket. The light faded, leaving slime.

"Professor Hale?" called Rose nervously.

"Use Scourgify," he said. "Or Tergeo." He looked tired, too tired to remember that he hadn't taught them either of those spells, but it was all right, because Rose had. She spent a lot of her free time learning new spells.

" _Scourgify,_ " she said, pointing her wand at the slime. Bright streams of bubbles and soap popped from her wand, scurrying down to clean up the slime. Soon it was gone.

"Wow," said Brittany. "Did you learn that on your own?"

"Yeah," said Rose.

"Neat. Maybe you can teach me sometime."

"Maybe," agreed Rose. It would be one other person who knew how to clean out the shower drains in their dormitory, anyway. And it wasn't a hard spell. At least, not by Rose's terms.

"So, my turn again," continued Brittany. " _Mucus ad Nauseam._ "

The same green sparks popped out of her wand, and Rose felt another light breeze, but still there was nothing. Her turn came, and she concentrated, imagined with savage pleasure that it was Claire to whom she was trying to deliberately give a head cold, and said firmly, " _Mucus ad Nauseam!_ "

The green light hit Brittany in the face, and abruptly Brittany yelped, although it was a very soggy-sounding yelp, because her nose was clogged with the stuff coming out of it. Rose, half-scared and half-pleased at her own success, cried out, "I'm sorry!"

"You did duh spell perfeckly," said Brittany, her voice becoming heavier with fluid. "You shud go ad ged me some poshud. Rig' now." She sniffled, but it didn't do much good.

Professor Hale came forwards. "Drip onto the carpet," he advised her. "Would you be terribly humiliated if I showed the class how it was supposed to work?"

"Nod ad all," said Brittany, but even through the mucus Rose could tell she was being sarcastic. She hurried towards the table with the potions, squinted at the names on the cups and found Brittany's, then went back and handed it to her.

The mucus was now leaking from Brittany's nose onto Professor Hale's carpet at an alarming rate. Rose handed her the cup; with a great effort, Brittany swallowed the potion, and steam shot from her ears and then her nose, drying up the contents instantly. Rose cleaned the carpet as quietly as she could manage.

Everyone clapped. Professor Hale smiled at Rose. "Twenty points to Ravenclaw," he said approvingly. "I've never heard of anyone succeeding at that charm on their second attempt at it."

 _I can think of two_ , thought Rose, but she said nothing. Talking about her great-aunt Lily and her mother wouldn't do her much good when Claire would just sneer at her and call it nepotism.

"Nice job," said Brittany. She blew her nose into a tissue and winced at the result, then carefully tossed the tissue into the bin by the door. "You're like, really fast at learning spells. I'm going to like, end up with a cold."

"Sorry," said Rose again. She was surprised to discover that she meant it.

"It's okay," said Brittany. She smiled. "After all, you did what you were supposed to do. It's not like I can get, like, mad at you for doing what we're supposed to be doing."

"I guess not," said Rose. "Claire would have been mad."

She said the words without thinking, and Brittany frowned.

"I don't know if she would have been," she said loyally.

"It's me," said Rose. "She doesn't like me."

Brittany suddenly looked guilty. "No, she doesn't," she said, lowering her voice. But Claire was on the other side of the room, and there were other students practicing the Bogey Curse in between them.

There was something Brittany wasn't telling her. "Why doesn't she like me?" said Rose, allowing a little of her loneliness to show. It wasn't really a lie; she did feel lonely, in their rooms, but choosing to show the feeling at that moment was sheer manipulation. Rose didn't really like admitting to herself that she was good at manipulating people, but, well, she _was_.

Brittany looked even more guilty; glancing at Claire, and then at Branwen and Sam, she whispered something that Rose didn't quite catch.

"What?"

"She's jealous," said Brittany.

Rose frowned. "Jealous? Of what?"

"Boys," said Brittany. Her face was scared, too scared for a first-year. Rose remembered suddenly that Claire could perform the Sunburn Hex, which usually wasn't learned until third year. She wondered if Claire had ever threatened Brittany or Sam or Branwen.

"Boys? I don't even-" Rose's face fell. "Oh, _boys_. Oh, my. She can have all of them, for all I care."

"That's what you said before," said Brittany timidly, "when we, like talked to you that one time at lunch. But she didn't believe you."

"I really, really don't care about boys right now," said Rose firmly. "Seriously. If she can get them, she can have all of them. If she can't get them, then maybe she should stop being so mean all the time."

"She's jealous of you and Scorpius," Brittany blurted.

Rose raised her eyebrows. "We're not dating."

"Everyone thinks you are."

"Really, we're not. Have you ever seen us hold hands or anything?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Frankly, we spend more time arguing than talking," said Rose coolly, "and I spend far more free time with Matthias Hale."

"That, too," said Brittany. Evidently she couldn't keep her mouth shut with secrets. Rose made a note to herself to never tell Brittany anything that was meant to be a secret. "She's jealous of you and him."

"Frankly I don't understand what makes him attractive," said Rose, exasperated. "Or Scorpius. I mean, we're eleven years old! What's the rush to get boyfriends, and, and act like adults? I would still rather play with my younger brother than hang out with friends." It was a slight exaggeration. Hugo was an excellent brother, but she hadn't really had friends besides Albus before school started.

Brittany looked puzzled. "I-"

"If it's about power, or respect, then I don't care! I only care that my friends and my cousins respect me," said Rose. "I'm not trying to be popular. If people know who I am, it's because of my red hair and my face. I am a Weasley, and it used to be that all Weasleys were ginger. Victoire and Dominique changed that, and so did Fred and Roxanne. I mean, Roxanne's hair is sort of red. But I am a Weasley, and my family consists of war heroes, and _Harry Potter_ , for heaven's sake. If I'm popular, it's not because of anything I did. Maybe if Claire didn't try so hard it would help. I didn't have anything against her until she started hexing me whenever I walked into a room."

"I don't think it's that," said Brittany. "I mean, you're, like, super pretty, and really smart and stuff. I think she's more jealous of that."

"This is Claire Connolly we're talking about, right?" said Rose. "She's pretty, too! And Branwen is pretty, and Sam is drop-dead-gorgeous, and you're pretty. And even if I am pretty, which I'm not, I don't really care. I do care about being smart. You're smart, too. Too smart to spend all your time doing what Claire tells you to do all the time."

Brittany was silent for a moment, and then she said suddenly, "Whatever it is Claire, like, thinks about you, she's wrong. You're not mean, and you're not stuck-up. And you don't, like, dangle boys in her face on purpose."

"I could give two shakes of a unicorn's tail what Claire thinks when I'm talking to someone else," said Rose. "I don't use people."

She was kind of angry now. Brittany, rather wisely, didn't say anything for the rest of the period. But Rose's respect for Brittany had grown. Brittany was sweet, in a ditzy sort of way, and she wasn't the doormat Rose had thought she was.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts Rose walked to Charms, rather lost in thought. A lot of odd things had happened today. She was so preoccupied that when she reached Charms she didn't notice when someone slid into the seat next to her where Albus usually sat, and until class actually started and she glanced over at Albus to see what he was doing, she did not realize that it was not Albus who sat next to her. Albus was sitting to her left, one eyebrow raised as he listened to Professor Brocklehurst introduce the Charm they were learning that day. The person sitting next to her was Caden Montgomery.

 _Oh dear_ , thought Rose dismally. _I hope that awkward staring during lunch didn't give him any ideas._

"Let's review," called Professor Brocklehurst. Rose brought the part of her mind that had been paying attention to the forefront. "The charm we are practicing today is called what- Miss Weasley?"

"The Softening Charm," said Rose promptly.

"Good girl; five points to Ravenclaw. And the incantation is what- Mr. Stanislaus?"

Albus's friend Phil cleared his throat. "Spongify."

"Excellent. Five points to Gryffindor. And can anyone tell me the wand movement? I know this wasn't covered in my quick little lecture just now, but maybe one of you read ahead?"

Rose raised her hand again. Professor Brocklehurst nodded to her. "You make a backwards question mark," she said, raising her wand and drawing the movement with it. It sort of looks like a spring, which makes sense because it's a bouncy kind of spell."

"Brilliant, Miss Weasley, and you've addressed an aspect of the spell I wish to warn you about. The spell is, indeed, bouncy. So we're going to have to aim carefully as we practice. If we hit one another, it is possible for side effects to occur, such as one's chest becoming so bouncy that one is unable to remove one's clothes. Therefore, we can't really practice this spell on one another. We're going to be using the cushions and the feathers left from when we learned the Hover Charm." Professor Brocklehurst smiled at Rose. "Ten points to Ravenclaw. Everyone come up and get a cushion."

Rose joined the mad rush of all the students to select a cushion or a feather. Some of the cushions were older, with the stuffing falling out. Everyone wanted one of the new cushions. Rose managed to snag one and returned to her seat. Caden followed her. He still hadn't said anything.

"Practice the charm on your cushions for the rest of the period," called Professor Brocklehurst. "The Softening Charm will strengthen with repeated castings; by the end of the period, I expect you to be able to throw your cushion or feather and watch it bounce. If you've done really well, then you'll be able to jump onto your cushion and soar to the ceiling, at which point you should cling to a rafter and I will help you back down."

Rose was thankful to her bones that besides her usual black cotton tights, she was wearing basketball shorts beneath her skirt. How awful it would have been if she had jumped and flown up to the ceiling and hadn't had anything on but her underwear. Claire would never have let her live that down.

They began to cast the spell at their cushions. The buzz of conversation, punctuated by shouts of " _Spongify_!" filled the room. Professor Brocklehurst was a lenient enough teacher that they could hold conversations during Charms as long as they did their work.

"Hi."

Rose's wand arm jerked as Caden spoke to her. "Hello," she said, a little bit curtly. _If he was going to get all awkward_...

"So, you pulled off that spell really well in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said conversationally.

"Um, thanks." Rose wasn't used to normal boys, not when she had Albus and Scorpius and Matthias to talk to all the time.

"You do that a lot," he added, a little wistfully, "get the spells before everyone else. Do you have any secrets for it?"

"Genetics," said Rose, without thought for how arrogant it sounded. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

He cocked his head sideways at her, his face puzzled. Something inside Rose popped, and she buried her head in her arms as she laughed herself silly. What an awful thing to say, after all, and on top of the less-than-perfect day she'd been having thus far.

"I don't get it," said Caden, puzzled.

"You do know who my parents are, right?" she said, wiping away a tear of mirth. "I'm dreadfully sorry, I'm just in an odd mood. _Spongify_!" The cushion bent inwards and made a sound similar to that of a tightly stretched spring being released.

"Well, your dad, Ron Weasley, is the second most-respected Auror of the Battle of Hogwarts generation, only being beaten out by Harry Potter," said Caden seriously, but his eyes were twinkling. "And your mum works very high up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Hermione Weasley. What does that have to do with anything?"

"My mum was probably the most talented witch in the Battle of Hogwarts generation," said Rose. "She had ten Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations on her O.W.L's, and then after the war when she took her N.E.W.T's, even though she didn't have to, she scored _a hundred and fifty-eight percent_ on her Charms N.E.W.T. and over a hundred on seven of the other tests. But she got Outstandings on all of them. It broke quite a lot of school records, although she still didn't beat Dumbledore's scores."

"I've heard of those," said Caden. "Twelve Outstandings on O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s, all subjects taken and a score of a hundred and seventy-five percent or higher on all of them."

Rose nodded. "Nobody's ever beaten that, but my mum came close. And I got her brains, anyway."

"Genetics," said Caden, understanding. _For a Ravenclaw that took an awful long time to sink in_ , thought Rose a little crossly, but then, she was unusual, taking an interest in Muggle science.

"And then there's my great-aunt Lily Potter, but she's not really a direct ancestor," added Rose.

"That'd be Albus's grandmum, yeah?" Caden glanced over at Albus, who was chatting with Phil as they charmed their cushions. " _Spongify_." His cushion made a squelching sound.

"Yeah. She was really smart, too." Rose charmed her cushion again, then prodded it with her quill. It sank in, then bounced away like a gunshot, sticking into the doorframe.

"Nice," said Caden, watching her work. "You've mostly gotten it, haven't you?"

"There's only one way to find out," said Rose, and she picked up her cushion and placed it gingerly on the floor. Then she stood up and jumped onto the cushion.

There was a loud squelching noise, long and slow, but suddenly Rose felt herself rocketing up into the air. She grabbed the rafter as she passed it, had to let go because the momentum of the bounce was carrying her too high. She raised her arms just in time. They hit the ceiling very hard- she would have bruises, for sure. She felt herself begin to fall, and grabbed the rafter just in time.

Everyone was looking up at her. Professor Brocklehurst wore an approving smile, Albus and Phil were laughing and grinning, Caden was smiling. Claire, Branwen, and Sam looked annoyed, and Brittany gave her a very small smile.

"Fifteen points to Ravenclaw," called Professor Brocklehurst, " _excellent_ job, Miss Weasley. Just delightful. I'll have you down in a jiffy."

Rose seated herself on the rafter so that the class below wouldn't see her skirts and tights, and then, as Professor Brocklehurst's spell lifted her into the air and down to the ground, Rose whispered her own spell to keep her skirts from flying up. She landed with no mishaps.

"Keep at it, you lot!" said Professor Brocklehurst cheerfully, as Rose handed in her incredibly bouncy cushion. "I want the rest of your cushions bouncing by the end of class."

Caden charmed his cushion again. "That was pretty cool."

"Thanks," said Rose. "I try."

"They used to keep Spongify rugs in the Staircase hall," he said seriously.

"What?"

"Spongify rugs. They're ordinary carpets, until you cast Spongify on them. Then they'll bounce you up the stairs much quicker than actually walking up the stairs. But they were removed in '62 when one student jumped up on a rug and landed wrong on his ankle a floor lower than he should have, because the staircase started to move while he was jumping."

"Ouch," said Rose.

"Yeah, I bet it is," he agreed. "What else do you like, besides school?"

Rose hadn't thought much about things she liked other than school. She was _at_ school, after all. It was the reason for her being at Hogwarts in the first place. But when she had free time-

"I listen to music," she admitted. "I like older stuff. The Weird Sisters."

"That's not too old," said Caden. "And you have to admit that most of their stuff is _classic_."

"True. I like Toil and Trouble and I also like The Hex, for newer stuff. And there's a new little band in London called The Thestral Riders. They have this song called 'You Stupefy Me-' "

"I know that band," said Caden. He looked sort of bashful. "My older sister, she's nineteen. She's in the band. She's the lead singer."

Rose blinked. "But the lead singer's name is Casey Spellsing."

"That's her tour name. Her real name is Casey Montgomery," said Caden. "Seriously. It is pretty cool. And the song you mentioned, well, I feature in that song."

Rose blinked, and then she remembered. "Merlin's pants. You're not the harmonica player?"

"That would be me." Caden dug in his pocket and produced a harmonica. "I picked it up in Muggle school, and Casey told me she wanted a harmonica sound in the song. It confused the producers a lot. They kept asking, 'Who is this kid and why is he playing the harmonica?"

"That harmonica part is really, really good," said Rose. "I'm not terribly musical, but it sounds really good."

Caden grinned. "I try."

The period ended, and Rose waved at Caden before she joined Albus. She wanted to tell him about Caden. She thought they would get along well.

As she caught up to Albus, she heard him tell Phil, "I'm _fine_ , Phil, really. Just a little tired."

Rose instantly dropped back a pace and walked behind them, listening intently.

"You wake up three times a night," said Phil. He was watching Albus. "You have shadows under your eyes, Al- you're not feeling good. You need to go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Really, Phil, I am fine," said Albus. His tone was perfectly pleasant, but Rose, her eyes sharper with worry, noticed that Albus's hands were shaking a little, and he walked a little slower than he normally did. "It happens all the time."

"If you don't get help, I'm going to refer you to a prefect," said Phil soberly. "This isn't good for you. You go to sleep at eleven. Twelve on Astronomy nights. You wake up at two and you write things down. You go back to sleep at two fifteen and you sleep until four. You wake up and write things down and you go back to sleep and you get up at six to shower-"

"Phil," said Albus, and he sounded very pained, "I'll go talk to Professor Creevey if it will make you feel better, okay?"

"Yes, it will," said Phil firmly. "Listen, I have to go write the Transfiguration essay. You're all done- Merlin knows why, you _like_ the subject- and you should take a nap."

"I think I will," said Albus, and even under a slight breathiness to his voice that Rose took for faintness, she could recognize Albus trying to tell a lie, Albus who never lied except sometimes to his parents about harmless pranks.

Phil left, and once he was out of sight, Albus made no pretense at going anywhere. He sat against the hallway floor and buried his head in his arms.

Rose sat down next to him.

"You heard him, huh?"

Albus sounded regretful.

"Is it the dreams about the Dark Mark?" said Rose.

He nodded without taking his head from his arms. "I dream about it all the time. Sometimes I feel a pain in my head, in the same place Dad's scar is. I have to write them down, because Dad told me to tell him every time I had a dream."

"What about Professor Hale?"

"He seems really nice," said Albus, his face shadowed, "but he looks worse and worse in real life, too. You know who he reminds me of?"

"Who?"

"Tom Riddle. Voldemort before he became Voldemort. Not," he hastend to add, "that I know him personally. But dad showed me a picture he had from his work files, and Riddle is a dark-haired, handsome, intelligent bloke. Professor Hale has light-colored hair, but he's also an handsome, intelligent bloke, and Dad said that Voldemort got worse and worse-looking as he meddled in Dark magic."

"You don't think maybe Professor Hale made a Horcrux?" said Rose waveringly.

She knew she shouldn't have said it, because as soon as she did Albus's head sank back down into his arms and he cried, "I don't _know_ , Rose- that's the problem. It seems like Dad was able to use his connection with Voldemort to spy on him sometimes, and I can't do that because it's not so much something I can control as much as something I inherited."

Rose felt instantly guilty. Albus had been getting tired and probably ill, and she hadn't even seen it. He had also probably been the recipient of a Bogey Curse from Scorpius in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had been so preoccupied with stupid things like annoying boys who liked her and her jealous roommates that she hadn't even thought to worry about Albus.

"Come on," she said firmly, pulling him to his feet. "We're going to Madam Pomfrey."

"She can't do anything about this," he protested.

  "The creepy Dark Mark dreams and the possible activity of our teacher as a Death Eater, no. Your obvious cold and tiredness and illness, yes. Come on." When he continued to protest, she forced one of his arms over her shoulder and pulled him along the hallway. Eventually Albus allowed himself to go to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey fixed him up with a Clearheaded Potion, a Pepperup Potion, and some apple-pie-flavored lozenges.

They sat on the edge of the infirmary cot as Madam Pomfrey filled out the records of Albus's treatment, to send to Harry and Ginny. Rose said quietly, "What do you think we could do, if Professor Hale's a Death Eater?"

"We have to find conclusive proof first," said Albus. "He could be innocent. It could be my mind playing tricks on me."

"It could be," agreed Rose, but her brain was whirling. "I've got a bit of an idea."

"You with an idea? Uh-oh, better call Magical Law Enforcement," said Albus with a smile.

"See, you're feeling well enough to crack jokes," said Rose, relieved. "We have to find proof that he's a Death Eater, you say? Well, I know someone who I bet can help us find proof."

"Matthias Hale?" said Albus dryly.

"Yes, but also Fred and maybe James," said Rose. "They'll need to be a diversion. This will be just like when your dad wanted to talk to Uncle Sirius when they were at school during the year Dolores Umbridge was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Cause a diversion, post sentries, and break into his office?" said Albus incredulously. "Are you mad? We'll get in so much trouble!"

"I know," said Rose, "but if it will help you I think we ought to do it."

Albus sat silently for a moment, and then he said, "I'll think about it. Don't tell anyone just yet. But maybe you can ask your friend Matthias if he can learn anything about Professor Hale without us having to break in."

"I doubt it," said Rose, "but Matthias is uncommonly intelligent, emphasis on the _uncommon_ part of it."

They sat in silence for a moment, with only the sound of Madam Pomfrey's scratching quill between them. Then Albus said, "Thanks."

"I don't really deserve your thanks, but you're welcome."

"Thanks anyway," he said, a little stubbornly, "and I'm glad you're my favorite cousin. Why were you sitting with Caden?"

"He sat with me," said Rose, "and he was fairly nice. Also his sister is the lead singer of The Thestral Riders, and he played the harmonica in their best-selling single."

"Neat."

"It is pretty neat," said Rose. "But it's not very important. You getting sick from being tired from your dreams and having stress to deal with- now that's important. I should have seen it sooner-"

"Don't blame yourself," said Albus. "It's only been a few weeks this has been happening. It started the last night of Christmas, and it's been maybe two weeks since, so I'm not too tired."

"I'll lend you some of my sleeping potion," said Rose.

"That's not what I need," said Albus. "I do need to write down the dreams. I have to be able to wake up at night." He yawned. "Thanks for offering, though."

"You're welcome."

There was another silence.

"What do you think is really happening, Albus?"

"The way the dreams go... either Professor Hale or someone else is a Death Eater from the old days, one our dads missed or that Kingsley Shacklebolt missed," said Albus. "Usually I just see the man in the chair, in front of the fireplace, but sometimes there's a tall figure in a black hooded cloak standing in the corner."

"Not a dementor?"

"No, all the dementors migrated to the Arctic Circle after the Wizarding War. It's a person, definitely. And sometimes I hear them talking, but usually I can't hear them at all. I've been hearing them more lately, and the colors are getting brighter. I guess you could say it's getting worse in that regard."

"What do they say?"

"They talk about a long time waited," said Albus. A little shadow was beginning to darken his face as he frowned. "They talk about vengeance upon the children of the warriors. It's all very vague. I don't imagine it will make sense until they... attack someone."

"Are they going to?"

"They said they're going to make their move soon."

Rose shuddered. Compared to this, her boy problems were nothing at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, because now you're all gonna be like "OH MY GOSH SARAH HOW COULD YOU MAKE ROSE A MARY SUE NO STOP IT NO" but she's not a Mary Sue I promise like sometimes she's a total bitch to people because she's Rose and she does that and there were times throughout the books when both Ron and Hermione were absolutely terrible so there you go.
> 
> Oh, look, a wild plot appeared, and I'm not writing this just for personal gratification...


	11. Spying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus and the gang do some illicit sneaking around- featuring Matthias Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look stuff happens.

Chapter Eleven: Spying (Albus)

 

"I have no idea," drawled a half-familiar voice.

Albus looked up, confused, from his Transfiguration homework. He had been working in the library by himself, so that he could do his best work. He liked Transfiguration.

Rose, looking embarrassed, stood before him. With her was a tall, thin boy with longish brown hair and blue-grey eyes, eyes that had a laugh in them whether the boy was laughing or not.

"What?" said Albus, confused.

"Miss Weasley came to me with your little problem," said the boy, a slight smirk characterizing his face into one that he properly remembered: Matthias Hale. "And the answer is, I have no idea what my brother does in his free time, much less of any idea why he's been so ill. I know that has something to do with why you're so interested in him."

"I'm trying really, really hard not to tell him," said Rose, her mouth tight and set, "but it's rather difficult. Sometimes I think that the less I say, the more he knows."

"I'm observant," retorted Matthias.

"You're also unpleasant," said Albus truthfully. He had never seen anybody who could make Rose so uncomfortable.

"I can be quite winsome when I want to be," said Matthias. "Really, I can. Ask all the silly girls I end up dating. Now, Rose approached me with some minor, casual curiosity regarding my brother, and I naturally picked up on it-"

"Naturally," said Rose, rolling her eyes and casting an annoyed look upon Matthias.

"-and made several assumptions: firstly, it's important, because she asked me about something I didn't originally care about, and Miss Weasley and I never make small talk for the sake of small talk. Secondly, it is important, but it's not vital, or you would have asked me yourself. Thirdly, it's scaring the hell out of you, because if you weren't scared of him, you would have just asked my brother himself. But instead you chose to go through me, the middleman."

"You see what I have to deal with," said Rose, a smile appearing at the very corners of her mouth.

Albus sighed. "It's really not something I can talk to you about," he said quietly. "If you really are Rose's friend, an honest and good friend, then you'll just help us, no questions asked, because she asks you to. If you can't handle that, then you're not worth Rose's time."

Matthias studied him, then said, "I was wrong. Shame you didn't wager money on it, Miss Weasley."

"Why do you call her that?" said Albus.

"What, 'Miss Weasley?' It keeps the parameters of our friendship professional. I wouldn't want something silly to happen, like her to develop a crush on me. It's been known to happen to girls I spend time with. Miss Weasley is destined for a younger, if far better principled, man than I. Now, back to your issue. You want to find out some things about Max? I can probably give you basics."

Albus carefully placed his Transfiguration homework inside his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ and closed it, then took out a fresh sheet of parchment. He dipped his quill into the ink and wrote,

 

Professor Hale: Facts

"Bless his heart, he's writing it all down." Matthias sat down across from him, although Rose remained standing. "Fire away, young Potter, and we'll see where this take us."

Albus had no idea what he wanted to know about Professor Hale, so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _What would Dad ask someone in for interrogation?_

He listened to his memories and his experience, trying to think of a good answer, and then his mind was drawn to an evening in the Burrow, when Teddy Lupin had visited the day after Christmas. He remembered that Teddy was undergoing Auror training with Uncle Ron. He could see it in his mind's eye:

 

_"What sort of Auror work would you like to do, Ted?" Harry had asked. He sat on one of the couches in the main meeting room in the extensions of the Burrow. Teddy, for once, was not with Victoire, although she was nearby. Uncle Ron sat next to Teddy, watching and listening to Harry and his proteg_ _é_ _e. Albus was nearby, fiddling with his Sneakoscope and pretending that he wasn't listening in._

_"I've thought about interrogation and bodyguarding, but I think that ordinary field work is what I'd like to do," answered Teddy. His hair, usually a vibrant shade of teal, was striped red and green for the holidays. Albus's present memory connected it to Rose telling him that Teddy had spent Christmas dinner at Malfoy Manor, and that the Malfoys had probably resented the stripes._

_"Well, interrogation is something we always train every Auror in," said Harry, leaning forward in his chair. "It's a valued skill. One of our most valued interrogators left the force a few years back, when he decided that he wanted to work at Hogwarts."_

_"You mean Professor Longbottom?" said Teddy._

_"Yes. He was very good at interrogation; there's something about Neville that makes him easy to trust. He often conveys a sense of clumsiness, a bumbling, if pleasant, fellow. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth. For while Neville is occasionally awkward, he is a very skilled interrogator."_

_Ron nodded. "Poor bloke," he said quietly. "He told Hermione once that he wanted to learn how to interrogate people without torturing them, because of how Bellatrix Lestrange drove his parents mad through torture. So he's learned to ask the right questions, and to put on a harmless fa_ _ce."_

_"Other Aurors haven't been averse to a bit of torture- not the Cruciatus Curse, obviously, but several, much less painless spells that convince people to give information. Veritaserum is one. But you can't always trust Veritaserum- it's a fiddly potion to make," added Harry. "We had a batch go wrong once at the office, and the result was that we ended up Transfiguring the people we were trying to interrogate into giant cucumbers."_

_"I'll bet that made for a bit of awkward publicity," said Teddy with a chuckle. Harry and Ron laughed too, and Albus remembered that he had hid a smile._

_"Yes, well, anyway, the best way to go about interrogation is to ask every question you can think of and see if you can spot patterns. If the person is lying, it's fairly easy to tell."_

 

Albus opened his eyes; the memory hadn't taken more than a second or two to remember. He asked the first question that popped into his head. "When was Professor Hale born?"

"September 4, 1979," replied Matthias, his eyes still amused. "Might as well start at the beginning, I suppose."

 _One year older than Dad_ , noted Albus, and wrote it down. "Who are your parents?"

Matthias scowled. "I don't like this question."

"It could be important," said Rose sternly.

"Fine. His dad's a mystery, just like my dad. At least, it's a mystery to me. Max might know my dad, and I know he knows Marius's dad-"

"Marius?" interrupted Albus.

"Younger brother. Anyways, none of us knows who Max's dad is. Our mum was Elaine Hale. She was a Muggle who died right after she had Marius. Max raised Marius and I. It worked, because he's twenty years older than we are and up until this year he came home during the day."

"Sorry, but how does that work? Isn't Marius only nine?" asked Rose. "You're both at Hogwarts. Who takes care of Marius?"

"He's tall enough that he looks twelve or so," said Matthias, "and Max got him a house key and they send a Ministry official to check in on him every day, as we can't afford a nanny. He goes to Muggle school during the day. We have a flat in London, which was Mum's before she died."

Albus wrote some of this down. "Thanks, by the way."

"You're pushing it," said Matthias sullenly. "Anything else?"

"Just a little bit more. Does Professor Hale have any tattoos?"

There was a long pause, and then Matthias said flatly, "You think he's a Death Eater."

Albus was shocked.

"Because you're going to ask me how I know, I'll tell you that the only tattoos that are important to wizards in Britain are Dark Marks. They used to tattoo Gregorovitch's sign onto the undersides of their feet when he was going through his reign in Germany and Eastern Europe. Voldemort's dead and the only Death Eaters left are the ones who paid through their own noses to avoid the death sentence, such as the Malfoy family, or who pleaded guilty and offered information, such as the Malfoy family. The Dark Mark is located, on any given Death Eater, on the underside of their non-wand arm, which in this case is my brother's right arm, as he's a lefty. The answer is I don't know, because I have never actually seen his arm there. Max prefers long sleeves. Our flat is drafty and a tower office in a Scottish castle is even worse."

Rose smacked Matthias on the back of the head; he winced theatrically, and Albus was glad to see the other boy's return to good humor.

"Sorry about him," said Rose. "He's touchy where family is concerned."

"Aren't all of you Weasley folk?" said Matthias. "I know you're a Potter, young Potter, but while you have inherited some of the milder qualities brought to your line by your father, you still have a great deal of the Weasley-ness from your mother. Thank heavens you're mostly all Potter, though." He dodged another smack from Rose.

Albus shook his head in disbelief. Rose had certainly met her match as far as arguments went. He glanced down at his paper, then asked, "What do you think about his getting ill?"

"Smart lad, you are," said Matthias smugly, "asking the resident genius for his opinion!" He didn't quite miss Rose's blow to the back of his head this time. "To answer your question, I don't think anything of it. He usually gets ill around this time of year. I remember when I was eight we had to send him to St. Mungo's for a week. He was working at the Ministry then-"

"The Ministry?" said Albus sharply. "What department?"

"Department of Mysteries," said Matthias.

Albus felt the hair on his neck rise on edge. He remembered the stories Dad had told about the Department of Mysteries and the battle that took place there.

"Anyway, he always gets really ill right around now. He does look awful if you've never seen it before, but I'm used to it. And don't ask me to ask him about it. I tried that once and I almost got hit. And Max can throw a mean punch. Anything else?"

"One last thing," said Albus. "Was your dad at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Matthias's eyes gleamed, and he said quietly, "Ah, a really good question. No, he was not. Yet he knows an awful lot about it. Some Muggle men keep dioramas of Muggle wars and battles in their basements, with toy soldiers. Or they have train sets that they play with. My brother has a map of the Hogwarts grounds on his wall, depicting a lot of the main players and the way the students defended the buildings and the Death Eaters played their strategies."

"So..." said Rose, a little disdainfully.

"So, I was about ten years old and one night I go down to his room to ask where the remote is for the telly, because yes, we do watch the telly when there's nothing else to do, and I see him moving the figures about with his wand. He moved them about. And he was murmuring something to himself, and when I was watching he made the Death Eaters overwhelm and conquer Hogwarts."

There was a moment of silence, and then Albus said, "You're sure?"

"Dead sure," said Matthias. "I have a very good memory."

There was another silence, and then Albus wiped his quill on the sleeve of his cloak and capped his inkpot. "Well," he said, stuffing both of those objects into his bag, "that settles it."

"That settles what?" said Rose.

"Tell you later," said Albus, glancing at Matthias.

Rose nodded, but Matthias said languidly, as Albus stood up to leave, "If you're going to sneak into his office room, he keeps the doorknob enchanted to keep out busybodies like you."

"Really?" said Rose. "How would one go about getting rid of that? Is that an Unlocking Charm? Because I already know how to do one of those."

"Oh, thou of little faith," said Matthias. "I offer my services to you freely on this one. Max twitted me in public the other day, and you need a reason to look through his things without him noticing. Well, if we leave enough subtle clues to let him know that it was me getting my revenge, except it's really you searching for evidence of something that is highly improbable, then I will take the trouble on this one, if those clues are picked up upon, and you owe me. Also, it is much more complicated than an Unlocking Charm. He taught me the spell because I'm his brother and I pop in every now and then to chat with him."

Rose looked at Albus. She was waiting, Albus realized, for him to tell Matthias what to do.

"Thank you," he said to Matthias. "I accept your help."

"Excellent. Am I part enough of the whole plan that you can tell me why it is you have taken it into your stubborn little heads that my brother is a Death Eater?"

"No," said Albus firmly, "and I would like to respectfully request that even if you do pick it out of one of us that you not mention that you know why. Even if you feel the irresistible urge to show off how smart you are."

"Fine," Matthias grumbled.

"Who else will be invited to the party?" asked Rose, as they walked down the stairs to lunch. It was a Saturday, which meant there would be spareribs and pasta salad for lunch.

"James and Fred," said Albus. "They'll serve as the distraction party."

"We'll need guards," pointed out Rose.

"Norah and Scorpius."

"So the expedition party is..."

"You, me, and Matthias."

"I like this," remarked Matthias. "I don't even have to do any thinking at all. Clever young Potter's got it all figured out." His tone was condescending, which seemed to be a normal thing for him.

"I'll get Norah," said Rose to Albus, "if you'll get Scorpius."

Albus nodded. As they entered the Great Hall, he looked around and spotted Scorpius leaning against a wall, not sitting at the Slytherin table or the Gryffindor table. As Albus waved to him, he came over, looking a little relieved.

"Bruna Goyle is after me again," he said to Albus. "Tell James to cream Slytherin at the match, won't you? And tell Fred to Bludger Bruna to the face."

"Ha," said Albus.

"I'm not even joking. She and her friends managed to nick a Bludger. It's very hard to nick Bludgers. And then they cursed it so that whenever I go into the common room it goes straight for me. I've barely made it out with my life three times today, and the second time it got my hand against the door. I had to get it fixed at the hospital wing."

"I can have a word with Fred, but I have a plot brewing, and you'll need to be part of it. Come on."

He led Scorpius over to the Gryffindor table. Rose, Norah, and Matthias had settled a distance from everyone else and were now talking in low, anxious tones. Scorpius slid into the bench by Rose.

"Just filling Norah in," said Rose quietly.

"Fill Scorpius in while I go chat with James and Fred," said Albus, trotting off again. He could see James and Fred, heads bent over something in their laps, Marauder's Map laying on the table as a blank piece of parchment, which Fred poked every now and then with his wand.

"Hey," whispered Albus, leaning down next to them.

Both of them jumped, and Fred murmured, " _Evanesco_." A small mouse vanished from Fred's hand.

"I need your help with something," said Albus.

"Bugger off, we're busy," said James.

"It's sort of a prank."

"I'm listening." Fred elbowed James in the ribs, and James winced.

"I need to get into a locked room on the third floor." Albus had decided that Fred and James didn't need to know too many details; partly because he didn't want to worry them unduly and partly because he didn't share things with James very often, at least not secrets. "It's sort of out-of-bounds. I mean, you can be in there with permission, but not by yourself. Anyway, I need to get into the room secretly. I have the things I'll need to get into the room, but I need a big, noisy distraction to keep teachers and pretty much everyone else away."

Fred's eyes brightened. "Big noisy distractions are my specialty," he said with a grin. "Anywhere in particular you want this big, noisy distraction to take place?"

"Ground floor," said Albus, "beginning of supper."

"Today, you mean? Oh, well, my Charms essay isn't due until Tuesday. Come on, James- let's talk fireworks and Canary Creams." Fred and James immediately began to plan.

"One more thing," said Albus hesitantly. "James, can I borrow the Map?"

James considered. "Yeah, why not. But if it's returned in less-than-perfect condition, I will not hesitate to rat you out to Professor Mycroft."

"Exactly as it was," Albus promised, and took the Map.

Albus went back to where the others were sitting. "Beginning of dinner today," he told them. "James and Fred will have something cooked up down here. I have something we can use."

He opened the map, tapped it, and said, " _I solemnly swear I am up to no good_."

Beautiful spirals of ink curled out from the place he had tapped, moving to create walls and classrooms and corridors with ease. Scorpius had heard about the Map, though he hadn't seen it; he watched in amazement. Norah and Matthias, who had neither seen nor heard of the Map, stared with open mouths as the halls of Hogwarts, as they were, manifested themselves onto the paper."

"This is the Marauder's Map," Albus explained to them. "It's sort of a very big secret and it doesn't belong to me, so don't tell anyone." He folded and unfolded the map, examining it until he found the section of castle where the D.A.D.A Tower was pristinely labeled on the third floor.

"The office is in through the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom," said Albus, pointing, "so we'll have either Scorpius or Norah standing watch at the end of this corridor. You can bring homework or something, so it just looks like you're looking for a quiet place to study. Whoever isn't at that place will be around the corner, with a good view of the corridor that leads to the staircase hall. Anybody comes up, you can tell them that someone spilled a pot of Stinksap and Filch is busy going after James and Fred so it will smell really awful."

"I could probably get my hands on some real Stinksap if you want," offered Norah.

Albus grimaced. "Thanks, but no." They all laughed. "Rose and Matthias will be going in with me, under- er- a special tool I have."

"You might as well just tell him," said Rose with a sigh. "It's not as though he'll tell anyone."

"I assume we're talking about me," said Matthias with sarcasm.

"No, Norah doesn't know about it either," said Albus. "I have an Invisibility Cloak. It was my dad's. No big deal, right? Anyway-"

"You have an Invisibility Cloak?" said Matthias. "Do you know how expensive those things are?"

"Mine's inherited, so no, not really."

"Cheap ones are when they buy a cloak and put a Disillusionment Charm on the whole thing. Shoddy job. Really expensive ones are when they weave the cloak thread by thread and layer Invisibility Spells, Disillusionment Charms, and Bedazzling Hexes into each thread. Do you know what sort yours is?"

"No," said Albus. "But it apparently does as good a job so as to hide the wearer from Death itself."

He meant it as a joke, and all of them laughed, knowing the story of the Three Brothers and knowing, or at least believing, that Albus was kidding. He didn't know if he was kidding or not.

Matthias offered the service of his lockpicks, as well as his wand and knowledge of the office. "If the door is hexed against Alohomora, which knowing Max, it is, then you'll need me there."

"I only know a few people who can pick locks," said Albus, thinking of Uncle George and then his father, who had initiated a month at the Auror Office where every wizard had to learn how to pick Muggle locks.

"Really? I don't know any people besides me."

They emerged from the Great Hall long after lunch was over, going back to their dorm rooms to prepare. Albus saw James and Fred in the Gryffindor common room, several bulging bags at their feet, going over some sort of checklist. He grinned and went to get his Invisibility Cloak and leave his bookbag in his room. Phil and Alaric invited him to play Wizarding chess, and he played a game before claiming he had to talk to Norah about Potions homework. It was a believable lie; Norah spent more time than any of them tutoring other first-years. Even some of the Ravenclaw students went to Norah for Potions help. He put on the Invisibility Cloak and watched people.

Albus found himself wandering past Ravenclaw Tower and their common room door. Rose and Matthias would be out soon. Matthias came out first, and Albus lifted the cloak and said, "Matthias, over here."

Matthias joined him. He had to crouch a little under the Cloak; he was tall, and while the Cloak was roomy it wasn't so roomy as to admit two first-years and a tall-fourth-year without showing their shoes. They waited in silence for Rose to come out.

The door opened, and several girls came out. Albus recognized them as Rose's roommates.

"She just really thinks the world of herself, doesn't she," said the brown-haired one named Claire. Albus remembered that Rose wasn't overly fond of Claire. "Just walks into the dorm like she owns the place, climbs into her enchanted trunk and starts rummaging around, making noise and mumbling nonsense to herself. And those awful skirts!"

"I get the shudders just looking at them," said Branwen. She was rummaging in her bag for something; found the something, and took it out. It was a little container of lip gloss, which she began to apply liberally.

"I mean, she could act like she cares," continued Claire. "But no, she just ignores us. Like she's _too good for us_ or something."

Matthias nudged him and pointed to the curly-haired girl, Brittany. She looked uncomfortable.

"She's getting nicer," he whispered.

"Getting nicer? What do you mean?" Albus whispered back.

Matthias looked at him in astonishment. "You mean you don't know?"

"What is it?"

"Miss Weasley's roommates hate her," said Matthias. "They treat her something awful. She worries about it a lot more than she should, although she still worries less than other girls would."

"You mean they're mean to her?" The girls were standing there and chattering about other things now.

"Of course. Didn't you just hear them? They were talking about her. Although the girl with curly hair is beginning to feel bad about being mean to Miss Weasley. I would guess that the girl with brown hair, the leader, has been mean to _her_ once or twice, so she's feeling pity for her fellow underdog."

Albus was silent as he considered this. No wonder Rose was happier to hang out with him and Norah and even Scorpius, these days, than to stay in her room.

"I offered to mess with one of their heads," said Matthias. "Romantically, I mean. Make one of them fall for me and then dump them, because I thought it would make Miss Weasley feel better. She said no. I was surprised. She's a diamond among coal, your cousin."

"Are you in love with her?" said Albus severely. "Because you're much too old for her."

"Heavens, no. I'm a one-woman man, and I've been spent on- ahem- another young lady, for the past two years. Miss Weasley and I are platonic, partially because she gives me relationship advice and partially because I educate her in the finer matters of reading another person's mind. Ours is a friendship of convenience."

The giggling girls moved off, and as soon as they were out of sight, the door opened, and Rose came out. She held a small notebook and a regular cheap ballpoint pen.

"Rose, under here," said Albus, lifting a corner of the Cloak. She joined them.

"Are Scorpius and Norah in position?" she whispered.

"I haven't checked," said Albus. "I told them to be at their posts by five forty-five. Supper is at six and so is the great prank."

"If they get detention, we'll probably owe them," said Rose.

Albus winced. "I hadn't thought about that."

"We can lend Victoire some money to get them sweets from Honeydukes. Getting joke items for James and Fred is like giving a dragon a torch."

Albus chuckled quietly.

They moved slowly and quietly through the halls, Matthias stooped over so that nobody's trainers showed under the Cloak. Navigating the stairs was the hardest part; Matthias would step down first, then Rose and Albus. But they only needed to go down a floor.

Norah and Scorpius were in place; Scorpius looked up as they approached and said clearly, "All set."

"How did you know it was us?" said Rose.

"I can hear you pretty well," said Scorpius, "seeing how you didn't get rid of your shoes. If you had all gone in your sockfeet it would have been smarter. Professor Hale left for dinner about five minutes ago."

That was long enough, but Albus wanted to make sure. He had told Fred and James to create something audible at six o'clock sharp. Suddenly they heard a muffled bang and a lot of shouting.

"That's your cue," called Norah down the corridor.

Albus, Rose, and Matthias shuffled over to the door and opened it. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was deserted. Rose closed the door behind them. They quietly made their way over to the staircase that led to the professor's office and bedroom. Matthias studied the lock and peered inside, then pointed his wand at the door and said, " _Magiclavicus_."

The doorknob glowed with a dark-blue light, then returned to its natural state. Matthias removed a small leather case from his pocket and drew out several lockpicks. Using one at a time, he inserted them delicately into the lock and twisted and fiddled. The lock popped open and the door swung inwards.

They crept inside, closed the door, and threw off the Cloak. Albus took a deep breath and said, "Do you know where he keeps things, Matthias?"

"School things in those cabinets," said Matthias, pointing. "Personal stuff in his room, which we can't get into. He made up a whole new spell for his room."

"Did he invent the other spell, too?" said Rose, pulling another notebook out of her pocket. Albus recognized it as the one Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione had given them for Christmas with Potter-Weasley family specialty spells in it. She scribbled something in it, then closed it and stuffed it in her pocket.

Albus riffled through the papers on the desk, but they were all student essays and assignments. He found his own and discovered that he had gotten an eighty-nine on the latest assignment. Rose had a ninety-four, and Scorpius had marked a hundred.

"Hey, Rose, Scorpius beat you at homework," he said, moving to the desk drawers. Matthias was working on the bookshelf.

"Let me see!" Rose darted over to examine the essays. "Well, I never."

"You aren't perfect, Miss Weasley," remarked Matthias. "You come closer than the proletariat, but you're not completely perfect. Which is why you're interesting."

"We've been through that," retorted Rose.

Albus ignored them and opened the last desk drawer, discovering a small, leather-bound book. He opened the cover and rifled through it, looking for interesting things, but found that it was a blank journal with one entry in it, dated from this past Christmas Day. It read,

 

Property of Maximilian Hale Black

 

"What?" murmured Albus.

"What is it?" said Matthias.

Albus showed them the journal.

"Black," said Rose, her face troubled. "There are a lot of Blacks in the Wizarding world."

"That means he's related to us. Grandad Weasley's mum was Cedrella Black."

"Could he be Sirius's son?" said Rose doubtfully.

"Nah, Uncle Sirius kept a bachelor household until he went to prison. And then he was in hiding for a while. You don't meet girls that way." Albus studied the book.

"Here, I'll write it down." Rose wrote on her notepad: _One leather-bound journal, one entry, December 25, 2017, "Property of Maximilian Hale Black."_

"I hate to interrupt our findings, which were just getting interesting," said Matthias, glancing at his watch, "but it's six-ten, and I think the uproar over your cousins will probably have died down soon, so we had better leave."

Albus nodded. He closed the journal and replaced it in the drawer. They left everything just as they had found it; under the Cloak once more, Albus examined the Marauder's Map. Professor Hale was just coming up the stairs to the first floor.

"Hurry, he's on his way," he told the others.

"I would kill to have a copy of that map," said Matthias.

"No dice, it's family property."

"I'll have to marry into your family, then," said the older boy. "The way life works, that could very well happen."

"I thought you said you didn't like Rose that way," said Albus thoughtlessly.

"I'm right here," said Rose pointedly.

"I did say that. That's not what I meant at all."

Rose sighed loudly. "Not this again."

They closed the door to Professor Hale's office, hurried through the classroom, and made it outside just in time. Norah and Scorpius were both packing up their things; Albus whipped off the Cloak and stuffed it into his pocket, just as Professor Hale came hurrying towards them.

He scowled when he saw Matthias. "My Intruder Charm went off," he said sharply. "Were you in my office?"

Matthias's face adopted an expression of innocence. "An Intruder Charm? Really, Max? You don't trust little old me to that degree of defense? I promise you I did nothing contraband. I had forgotten that I left one of my textbooks in your office, and I needed to get it. I was walking with my friends here. They waited outside." He did indeed hold a textbook. Albus wondered if it was one of Matthias's or if he had simply nicked it from Professor Hale's shelves.

Professor Hale studied them. He looked the most hostile Albus had ever seen him. "And they didn't hear the incantations to my locking spells?" he snapped.

"Not a breath of them," Matthias assured him soberly. "I can behave like an adult every now and then, you know."

There was a long silence, during which Albus crossed his fingers behind his back and wished desperately for Professor Hale to believe them.

"I find it difficult to believe that you could ever be adultlike," he finally said to Matthias, "but then, you've given me very few reasons to believe that."

He was more like a father than a brother, Albus thought; a stern sort of father, not a nice one like his own dad.

"I'll do better," said Matthias. "You have to admit, I've mostly stayed on the straight and narrow since about November."

"It's true," said Professor Hale evenly. "However, I expect you to ask before you walk into my office when I'm not there, do you understand me?"

"Scintillatingly."

"Never mind you and your adjectives. Have you eaten?"

Matthias shook his head. "I was on the way down, I heard there was a prank."

"Was there ever," said Professor Hale. "Fireworks in the courtyard, Trip Jinxes and Peruvian Darkness Powder littering the ground around the culprits, Decoy Detonators everywhere, Fanged Frisbees zooming around the first floor, Peeves was throwing chalk and inkpots, a Portable Swamp in the ground-floor hallway, and they managed to levitate not one, but _ten_ nifflers into the windows of the Great Hall. Saturday nights are when the house-elves put out the gilt plates, to keep them in use, and the little creatures went wild for the gold. I'm fairly sure there's still a few nifflers in the hall. The pranksters were wearing masks and they ran off into the grounds before any of the teachers could get to them. I only came up because my Intruder Charms went off." He shook his head and went into his office, closing the door behind him.

Albus looked at Rose, and both of them, recognizing the looks on each other's faces, suddenly raced down the hallway towards the staircases. Matthias, Norah, and Scorpius followed at a more sedate pace.

When they reached the safety of the second floor, Albus and Rose burst out laughing, long and hard and satisfactorily. As Matthias drew close to them, he remarked, "I do hope it wasn't my brother," which set them off again until tears leaked from Albus's eyes and his stomach hurt with all of the laughter. Norah was laughing, too, and Scorpius was smiling, which for him was as good as laughter. Matthias simply looked bemused.

When Albus could speak, he said, "It's not your brother, no. It's Fred and James- the lengths they go to to make an impression-" and Rose let out a high-pitched squeak of repressed laughter that sounded so funny that Albus burst out laughing fresh for the third time.

"I bet I know where they'll turn up, though," said Albus, glancing at the Marauder's Map. "Come on."

The five of them went back up to the third floor and made their way, with Albus's direction, to a statue of a one-eyed witch. Not moments later, the witch's hump opened up and revealed Fred and James, sweaty but triumphant. Albus, grinning, handed James the Map. James accepted it and wiped it clean with a " _Mischief Managed_."

"And how did it go?" said Rose. "Nifflers in the Great Hall? Really?"

"Oh, that wasn't us," said Fred. "I mean, it was a nice touch, but it wasn't us. It might have been Rory Finnegan. I'll have to ask him about it."

"But everything else was you?" confirmed Albus. "Thank you, by the way."

"You're welcome," said James. "We were going to do Dungbombs, but Professor Mycroft started throwing around words like 'detention' and 'fifty points from every House if you don't stop _right now_ ' so we decided it would be best to leave off where we did."

"Where did you leave the Dungbombs?"

"I've got a good hiding place," said Fred. "Trust me, nobody will find them unless I want them to."

"But you do know that you two are the primary suspects, right?" said Rose. "You'd better find somewhere to be, with an alibi."

"Taken care of, Rosy Posy," said Fred saucily. "What, you thought we would plan an elaborate prank without a cover story? Roxanne, Dominique, Frankie, and Meghan are making their way up to Gryffindor Tower, where they will 'discover' that we were in there the whole time. We couldn't bring Victoire in on it. She would feel obligated to rat us out. Well, it's been lovely, but we must dash." Fred saluted them, and James grinned. The pair of them scampered away.

"And I thought hearing about Uncle Fred and Uncle George was bad," said Rose, shaking her head.

"You should hear about Grandad James and Uncle Sirius," Albus assured her.

Matthias yawned and stretched. "Well, I'm off to a glorious repast. I'll see you later." He stalked off without so much as a good-bye.

They watched him go, too. "He's like that," said Rose.

"What, arrogant?" said Scorpius. "I hardly noticed."

"We should probably go eat, too," said Albus. "And thank you, Scorpius, and Norah, and Rose. You're the best."

Norah smiled and squeezed Albus's hand briefly, then let go. "If it helps you feel better, it's worth it," she said softly.

"I don't want there to be a third Wizarding War any more than you do," said Scorpius. "If this maybe helps prevent it, then I'll break a thousand school rules before I let it happen."

Rose met Albus's eyes, and he knew what she would say before she said it. "We care about you, Al. And we want to help."

And Albus, at that moment, appreciated the three of them more than anything else in the world. It was easy to make friends, but making best friends was harder. And he had managed to make three of them. Luck had been on his side that day on the Hogwarts Express.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry my chapters are so long. Read and comment. I do love comments.


	12. Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are midnight meetings with the headmaster, who is dumb, and in which Albus and Rose meet someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a chapter in which the quartet totally Mary Sues the principal. (Yes, I did turn Mary Sue into a verb.) I apologize. You would think they'd have more difficulties with stuff like this, but I kind of want their experience in a few ways to reflect on Harry's experience, so they manage to similarly get around many of the rules.

Chapter Twelve: Prophecy (Rose)

 

There were several dull thuds on the roof, and Rose looked up crossly from her books. "Yes, I'm coming," she called out irritably, and closed her notes before getting up from her plush sofa and walking over to the ladder. She poked her head out of the trunk, expecting to find Claire, Branwen, or Sam giggling and running back to their beds, but to her surprise it was Victoire.

"I thought they were crazy when they told me you were in your trunk," said the older girl, as Rose climbed out, "but I stand corrected. Did you do that by yourself? Is it an Undetectable Extension Charm?"

"Yes, it is, and Mum did it for me." Rose wasn't going to explain about her one jeans pocket if she didn't have to. "What is it? I was studying."

Victoire's face suddenly looked sort of odd. "Well, I- it's quite strange, you see. Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you just yet."

"It's after hours," Rose pointed out. "Won't I be in trouble?"

"No," said Victoire. But she made no explanation as to why.

They walked through the dark halls of the castle, down three floors. Both of them lit their wands to see by, giving off clear, steady light. Rose found herself suddenly nervous as they rounded a corner and headed towards a cul-de-sac where two gargoyles stood sentry over an imposing stretch of stone wall.

The gargoyles came to life as Victoire and Rose approached, and one of them croaked, "You're up late, little miss Head Girl. And why've you got a student out of bed?"

"It's only ten-thirty," said Victoire. "We're to see the headmaster."

Rose stiffened. She hadn't met Professor Mycroft personally before, although he was a pleasant man, very talented and very intelligent. He was a specialist in Defense Against the Dark Arts, being one of the older Aurors from before the second Wizarding War. Her dad had described him once as "lazy, but in a jolly sort of way." _So the question is, what does he need to talk to me about?_

"Well, you need the password for that," said the other gargoyle.

"Motorcycles," said Victoire in a bored voice.

The gargoyles nodded, and the wall slid back to reveal a small spiral staircase. Victoire led Rose up the staircase.

"Motorcycles?" asked Rose.

"He likes them," said Victoire. "Muggle hobbyist, like Grandad."

"Oh."

Victoire knocked on the door and said abruptly, "Professor Mycroft, it's Rose and I."

"Yes, yes, come in."

Victoire opened the door and they went in.

Rose took in the room. Bookshelves everywhere, but also a motorcycle in one corner, perched on a stand, shining and polished within an inch of its life. Spiral staircases led up and around the desk area to another door, which Rose assumed led to the headmaster's bedroom. A large globe of the world stood in the center of the room, and four chairs were drawn up before the headmaster's desk, three of which were filled. Norah's face was tear-stained, possibly with fright; Scorpius looked bored, and Albus annoyed. Then again, she had learned not to read the expressions of Scorpius's face as being what he was actually feeling; in this case, he was probably as frightened as the rest of them.

Rose read all this at a glance, as she had been practicing with Matthias, and now she studied the headmaster. He had a salt-and-pepper beard, with grey, black, and white hairs mixing and mingling all over them. His hair was the same color, trimmed short- _military cut,_ thought Rose- and he wore horn-rimmed spectacles over his blue-green eyes, which were sharp without being cruel, and had the effect of kindness when he smiled. He was not smiling now.

She considered all of this information very quickly, and phrased her question carefully. "What are we in trouble for, sir?"

Professor Mycroft frowned. "I didn't say you were in trouble, did I?" he asked. "Miss Weasley- Victoire, that is- if you would stand outside the door and wait to escort them back to their dormitories? Thank you." Victoire, looking confused, left.

"It seems transparently clear that we are, sir," said Rose coolly, walking to the empty seat between Albus and Scorpius and sitting down but keeping her chin up as belligerently as she could. "Has someone complained to you about us? Because I assure you, we haven't been breaking any school rules."

It was a lie, and a good one. Rose knew that she was playing the arrogant, snobbish little intellectual brilliantly, and apparently it was consistent with the image someone had given Professor Mycroft of her, because he didn't seem too surprised, but merely said, "Settle down, Miss Weasley, and let me explain."

Rose sniffed disdainfully, but said nothing. Albus was glancing at her, confused by her behavior. Norah looked amazed- Rose mentally wished that both of them could hide their expressions better- and noted that Scorpius was laughing, just a little bit. That made her want to smile, so she stopped looking at him.

"A complaint has been made, yes," said Professor Mycroft, "but it's not really about you. You are correct that none of you have broken school rules. However, there is a situation you have created, that some of the other students object to."

"I know we're not in America," said Rose, "but I still think that the right to face one's accuser is a good idea."

"It's not one accuser," said Professor Mycroft. "Several students have come to me and talked to me about it, out of concern for tradition and honor. Anyway, some of the students feel that the four of you are flagrantly disregarding House tradition by sitting together at mealtimes in spite of your separate Houses."

At this, a huge relief went through Rose. Nobody had ratted them out about sneaking into Professor Hale's office. She arranged her face into outrage and annoyance. "Excuse me for saying so, sir, but I can't possibly see how that's the business of anybody but ourselves! And of course you if you disapprove," she amended herself quickly.

Before she could go further, Albus laid one hand on her arm, and she looked at him. He shook his head. "It's not that, Rose," he said quietly. "Some people think that Houses are separated because if people of separate Houses sat together, there would be a whole lot of drama."

Rose was about to retort when she saw the twinkle in Albus's eye- he knew exactly what she was doing, and he approved. The corner of her mouth away from Professor Mycroft hitched up slightly, to tell him she understood. Then she pulled her arm away from Albus, pouting. "Well, this is a whole lot of drama, but they're the ones who caused it! Can't they leave us alone?"

"Professor Mycroft," said Norah unexpectedly, "we have reasons other than just friendship for sitting together."

"Is that so, Miss Longbottom?" said Professor Mycroft. "If you'll each give me one very good reason, I'll let you continue to sit together at mealtimes, no questions asked."

"Speaking of which, why aren't Dominique and Victoire in here, too?" asked Rose. She was buying them time to think of reasons, although she couldn't explain as much to them when Professor Mycroft was sitting right there. "They sit at Gryffindor table all the time."

"Family is different," said Professor Mycroft, his voice amused. "There's a precedent for family. And yes, I know you have family at Gryffindor table, too. The primary objections being raised by other students are when you all go and sit at the Slytherin table." He glanced at Scorpius for a brief second.

And then Rose understood. "Oh, I see," she said flatly. "I bet Bruna Goyle complained to you, did she? And all of those big, gorilla-built Slytherins who she hangs out with when she's not at Quidditch practice, working on the only sort of bullying sanctioned by the school- a Quidditch foul. Not that I'm complaining about that, of course, but do you know why _she_ would be complaining? She has a particular resentment for Scorpius. More specifically, she resents his dad as compared to her dad, because Gregory Goyle is on house arrest, has been since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she resents the fact that the Malfoy family actually did the right thing by putting family first and then by giving information on the few Death Eaters unaccounted for after the war. She resents the fact that Scorpius has a lot of the good things in life and that she does not, and do you know how thick-skulled people like Bruna Goyle take out their resentments, sir? By ambushing students in the hallway and hitting them, sometimes badly enough to send them to the hospital wing. And do you know why she objects to the fact that we come and sit with Scorpius, sir? Because she knows that when we sit with him or when he comes and sits with us, she won't be able to torment him at mealtimes without one of us bringing it to a teacher's attention. Because Scorpius is too proud to tell a teacher when he's being bullied!"

Rose ended this tirade, and there was a very long moment of total silence. She peeped at Scorpius, whose face as usual revealed nothing.

"How on earth did you know it was Bruna Goyle?" said Professor Mycroft, bewildered.

"She's just _one_ of them," said Scorpius abruptly. "If I may take a shot in the dark, Professor, I would say that Claire Connolly is another one."

Professor Mycroft blinked.

Rose stared at Scorpius wildly, having no idea what to expect.

"Rose is one of five girls in her dormitory. Four of those girls knew each other or were at the very least acquainted before they came to Hogwarts. Rose didn't know any of those girls. Because Rose is far more intelligent than her four roommates and wasn't afraid to show it, they became jealous and began to ostracize her, to the point that Rose finds the prospect of sleeping in her room at night to be unbearable and has to take mild Sleeping Potions in order to get any rest at all. These girls make fun of the way Rose dresses, the friends she makes, and the abilities she has, which far exceed their own, in order to make her feel the outcast. Originally, Rose and I were not friends, but she was friends with Norah, and Albus is her cousin. Therefore when they chose to sit with me, she felt that sitting with them would be an environment in which she could feel accepted, rather than cast out. This train of thought was probably subconscious, but it was the choice she made to not experience bullying herself rather than the choice to defy the typical House stereotypes, that led her to take the action of sitting at the Slytherin table." Scorpius folded his hands neatly in his lap, and for a moment Rose wanted to die of shame, but she remembered that she had done the same thing to Scorpius just a moment ago and therefore had no right to feel ashamed. She drew herself up straight and gazed levelly at Professor Mycroft.

He shook his head. "Remarkable," he murmured. "Both of you. Mr. Potter, Miss Longbottom, have you any reasons?"

"I try to spend time with all my friends equally," said Norah timidly. "I mean, I don't want Scorpius or Rose to feel lonely or bullied by the others, either. But the fact is that Rose is my _best_ friend, and even though I like spending time with Sunshine and Candace, I prefer to be with Rose and Albus and Scorpius." She paused for a moment, then continued on resolutely. "Sometimes- not very often, mind- people look at me funny because I'm Professor Longbottom's daughter. He's a very great person, you know, quite a hero in fact. And a lot of the time, people look at me, and they see something... well, I feel like they see something woefully inadequate to be the daughter of Neville Longbottom. Especially compared to my older sister, Frankie. Frankie is never mean, or at least she never intends to be, but she's an awful lot of good things all rolled into one person. I'm much less good things, put into one person, and sometimes people think I'm not as good as her, and they show it. But Rose and Albus and Scorpius make me feel like I'm me, Norah, not Frankie's clumsy little sister or Neville Longbottom's stupid little girl." She stopped, her face red, and subsided into silence.

Rose respected Norah more than ever; it took no effort at all to explain Scorpius's problems to Professor Mycroft, but admitting one's own was a different matter entirely, and a difficult one, at that.

Albus cleared his throat, and said quietly, "There are reasons other than friendship, of course, but that is the best reason."

"I am aware of this," said Professor Mycroft. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, do you have a reason other than friendship? Given the singularly honest and unique reasons of your friends, I expect yours would be equally valid."

"I do have another reason," said Albus. "I'm a happy person. I don't get bullied around by people in my House, because half my House is comprised of my family members and their friends. I get along all right. But I do see that splitting us up into Houses is sort of awful, sir."

There was a silence, and Professor Mycroft said, "Awful? How do you mean, boy?" His tone was slightly offended, thought Rose, and Albus understood this.

"I know it's a long tradition and that the Founders of Hogwarts meant well by it," said Albus, "but in the long run, it's been awful for everyone who goes to this school. People get Sorted into their Houses and they're placed into the same rooms, the same classes, the same tables, the same Quidditch teams, the same colors on scarves and ties and vests and socks. They learn to identify people by House. And I think that is wrong, because even though Houses don't matter after Hogwarts, people still identify themselves by their House even after they move on to jobs and things. And this is why, in the past, people in Slytherin House have been made into villains. Sometimes, they start out as good enough people, but some particular quirk of their personality causes the Sorting Hat to place them into one category or the other, and once you've been placed into Slytherin or Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, you become, without trying, what they expect you to be."

"Do you have proof of this?" said Professor Mycroft, still in that dangerous, slightly offended tone.

"I was named for my proof," said Albus. "Severus Snape started out as a nice enough kid, and he was placed into Slytherin. He became a Death Eater. And then, _after he left Hogwarts_ , because of the few qualities that made him yet a good person, he became a double agent for our side. People don't always deserve the House they're put into."

Professor Mycroft blinked. "Do you expect me to assign Mr. Malfoy to Gryffindor House, then?" he said sarcastically. Rose could tell he was mad- being shown the flaws of a thousand-year-old system by an eleven-year-old boy, after all, had to be sort of humiliating.

"No," said Scorpius. "After all, the Sorting Hat read me right."

Albus and Scorpius looked at each other, then nodded.

"But I think we ought to change some of the rules, sir," said Albus. "Technically, we are already allowed to eat at whatever House table we want, but custom dictates that we eat at our own."

"It reminds me of the stories my mum told me about the Muggles who used to live here," remarked Rose. "A very long time ago. The people of antiquity- the Celts and the Druids, here in Britain, Ireland, Wales. They would divide into clans and war with each other."

"Maybe it's true that the competition is healthy," said Albus. "But it's never just about House points anymore. It's about proving which House is best. And that sort of thing is what turns wizard against wizard, witch against witch, friend against friend. There isn't any House that's better than the others. We need to stop acting like there is."

There was a long silence. The fire flickered merrily in the grate, dancing and darting about. Rose remembered the stories her mother had told her nights about Fawkes the Phoenix, who had chosen to die nobly with his friend and companion, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. She didn't think a phoenix suited Professor Mycroft. Perhaps a hawk, but not a phoenix.

"I will allow you to continue to sit with one another," said Professor Mycroft abruptly. "It's a good precedent to start, inter-House friendship." He stood up. "You're dismissed. Have Victoire take you all back to your dormitories." He seemed to be waiting for something, so Rose said, "Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," echoed Norah and Scorpius.

Albus said nothing, which was uncharacteristic of him. Usually Albus was far more respectful than Rose.

Victoire met them outside with the gargoyle statues; Rose had been afraid that Victoire was eavesdropping, but evidently the idea hadn't occurred to her.

"All set then?" she asked.

"Yes, we are," said Albus. "Do we need to stay with you, or can we wander back alone?"

"Do you have your wands?" asked Victoire.

All of them nodded.

"Raise your wand tips."

They did, and Victoire raised hers. Suddenly a tiny light appeared at the tip of her wand- _nonverbal, but obviously some variant of Lumos,_ thought Rose- and each of theirs held the same light.

"Since it's a nonverbal spell, you can all walk alone, and if a teacher finds you, you can tell them about your appointment and that I lit your wand tip. When you get back to your dormitory, you can tell the light to S-T-O-P. I can't say the word aloud because it will make the tips go out. Okay?"

"Sure thing."

"Alright, then. Off you go. I have duty, so I won't be coming with any of you." She walked away, holding her lit wand aloft.

As Scorpius and Norah headed downstairs, Albus drew close to Rose and whispered, "I wrote Dad about the journal."

"And?" replied Rose.

They walked upstairs. "He doesn't know of any of the Black families still surviving who had a son old enough to father a kid around the time Professor Hale would have been conceived." Albus spoke quietly, but it was almost loud in the silent corridors. "He did think of one person, but they're long since dead, and they would only have been about sixteen or seventeen at the time."

"Who?"

"Regulus Black."

Rose digested this as they kept walking.

"So, if Regulus was Professor Hale's dad, and Elaine Hale was his mum, then who were Matthias's and Marius's dads? They had to be wizards, because she was a Muggle."

"Sometimes you do get Muggleborns."

"But the chances of that are slim. I think they're all probably half-blood. After she was with Regulus, if she was indeed with him, she might have known a few wizards, right? They come in with Professor Hale, well, Max at that point, when he goes into check up on his old mum. Maybe someone comes and checks in on her after Matthias is born, and then a few years later she has Marius but then she dies. She must have been very young when she had Professor Hale."

Albus nodded. "She couldn't have been older than fifteen or sixteen. But Regulus was a Death Eater."

Rose stopped walking. "Wait, what?"

"He was a Death Eater. Not a really important one, but he managed to find out about one of Voldemort's Horcruxes and he switched the real one for a fake. It's why Kreacher is as nutty as a fruitcake- oh, it's a long story, I'll tell you later."

"Like father, like son," said Rose. "It's perfect."

Albus was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "I hope you don't always think of things as 'like father, like son.'"

"No, not at all." Rose realized that she might have offended Albus a little; her remark could have been cast on Scorpius, or even Albus himself. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it," he assured her.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

They both stopped and stared as a stooped, oldish woman stumbled towards them. A strong smell of alcohol came with her. Rose wrinkled her nose and held her wand up higher.

The woman was wrapped in scarves, which Rose thought was odd; she was oddly thin but for the scarves and the shawls. Her hair was wildly curly, reddish blond but beginning to turn silver. She had huge eyes, with horn-rimmed glasses that made them even huger, and she stared at them, swaying a little. A glass bottle glinted from a fold in her shawl, illuminated by Rose's wand light.

"Oh, hello, Professor Trelawney," said Albus. "Rose and I got called down to the headmaster's office. We had our wands lit by Victoire to show teachers that we were allowed to be out of bed. We're on our way up."

"Huh." Professor Trelawney squinted at them, then pointed at Albus and said dramatically, "The Dark Lord has arisen! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named shall return, and when he does-"

"Sorry, Professor, that was my dad. Twenty-odd years ago. See?" Albus lifted the hair from his forehead. "No scar. I'm Albus, not Harry."

She squinted at them again, then said, "Shall I make you a cup of tea, dears? I know I'm dreadfully smashed right now- my skull is buzzing, and I'm always smashed when my skull is buzzing."

"No tea, thanks," said Albus firmly, and grabbing Rose's arm, edged around Professor Trelawney.

"Are you sure?" she called after them. "Because I should be very interested to see your tea leaves, dear-"

Abruptly she stopped speaking, and then she turned around to face them. Her face had gone slightly saggy; her eyes rolled vacantly around, and her mouth hung open.

"Pro-Professor?" said Rose nervously.

A hissing sound escaped from Professor Trelawney's lips, and suddenly she spoke in a hoarse voice.

 

_"HE HAS BEEN DEAD FOR NINETEEN YEARS... YOU MUST BEWARE THE ONE WHO HAS THE MARK... HE IS LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT... HE LISTENS EVEN NOW TO MY WORDS... HE SHALL ATTEMPT WHAT NO WIZARD EVER THOUGHT TO DO... TO RAISE A TRUE LIKENESS...HE SHALL SEEK YOU OUT, THE FAITHFUL SON AND THE SHARP-EYED DAUGHTER... HE SHALL SEEK OUT THE YOUNG LION AND THE GENTLE DOVE... HE KNOWS OF YOUR POWER... HE WANTS IT FOR HIS OWN. THERE ARE NO HORCRUXES... THERE ARE NO HALLOWS... NOT THIS TIME... THE TRUE SECRET WILL BE FOUND... BEYOND THE VEIL... LISTEN... BEFORE... REMEMBER........."_

 

Her eyes twirled around once more in their sockets, and then she said abruptly, "Where was I, dears? I seem to have lost track. Ah, well. No tea? Then off to bed with you." She bumbled down the hall, swaying and stumbling.

Albus and Rose stared after her, then at each other. They would have no need to write anything down. It was burned into their minds, branded irrevocably into their memories like ink on parchment.

"Merlin's pants," said Albus at last, so shakily that Rose had to laugh.

"What an old bat," she added, as they headed towards the second-floor stairs. "Mum was right when she said Trelawney looked like one."

"Are you not going to take Divination, then?" said Albus.

"Why, are you?"

Albus shrugged. "I might, for the sake of an easy O. Dad said he made most of his homework up and she loved it, as long as he prophesied awful things."

"How pleasant." Rose wrinkled her nose. "But Divination doesn't seem really my area... sounds rather patchy, if you ask me."

"Do you suppose that was a real prophesy?" said Albus quietly.

"It sure sounded like one," said Rose. She was thinking of the two phrases in particular- "the faithful son and the sharp-eyed daughter" and "the young lion and the gentle dove." Obviously those were symbols of some kind, as taking those things literally would leave too much guesswork. And what did she mean by "the true secret will be found?"

She parted with Albus at the fourth floor; he continued upstairs while Rose made her way back to Ravenclaw Tower. She walked into the common room; a prefect started towards her to tell her off for being out of bed, but Rose held up her wand and was allowed to pass without reprimand. She went upstairs to her dormitory quietly and walked in without knocking.

Her roommates jumped as she came in; _good,_ thought Rose vindictively. She was not in a terribly good mood, having been yelled at by the headmaster and then scared out of her wits by a drunken old woman.

"You could knock," said Claire, her voice frosty with annoyance.

"You could stop being a brat," said Rose. She didn't feel like making an effort to be polite; after all, it was open season between her and her roommates. "Grow up and leave me alone. I don't care about you, so why do you care about me? Why do you care if I go and sit with Albus or Norah or Scorpius at lunch? Does it make you miserable to see me happy? Because that's incredibly petty of you."

Silence followed her down into her trunk, where she returned to her books at long last. She pored over her Charms notes for a while, skimming through most of the subjects covered that year and practicing each incantation on a teacup. After all, finals were in five months, and Rose knew that she would need to start seriously studying for them soon. But even her favorite subject wasn't enough to captivate her. She packed up her bookbag for the next day, laid out the next day's outfit, and changed into her pajamas, then sat on her couch and lit a fire in the fireplace she had managed to create. She wasn't sure where the smoke went, but she hoped it ended up near her roommates. There she sat and stared at the flickering flames, thinking about the odd, awkward prophecy, her situation with her roommates, Professor Hale and his infinitely more frustrating brother Matthias, Regulus Black, Norah and Frankie, leather-bound journals, bullies, and Houses. All of it jumbled together in her mind until Rose began to feel sleepy.

 

She woke the next morning at her usual early time, took her shower, and headed back to bed for a two-hour nap. When she woke, her hair was nearly dry. She pulled it back plainly for a moment; then decided to wear it down. Well, mostly down. She couldn't change her habits too drastically. She brushed out her hair, trying not to wince at the snarls, and found a headband somewhere in her trunk. She made sure it stayed in place with a very minor Sticking Charm, enough to keep the headband from flying loose. It kept her hair out of her face but left it down. She pulled on her grey cotton tights and buckled her shoes.

"You look nice today," said someone quietly next to her. Brittany. Brittany's bed was closest to Rose's; cynically, Rose wondered if the curly-haired girl had drawn the short straw on that one.

"Thanks," said Rose.

"I wanted to ask you something," said Brittany, glancing at Sam, Branwen, and Claire, who were curling their eyelashes with a sort of metal tool Rose always thought was used to scoop ice cream. "I promise I'm not being mean. I was just curious. How many pairs of those tights do you have?"

"About twenty," admitted Rose. "They're warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and I'm young enough that they don't look stupid or too girlish. I would hardly wear hose at my age."

"Do you ever wear jeans to class?" said Brittany.

"No," said Rose. "Jeans are for when I want to look normal. I'm not trying to look normal. I'm trying to be comfortable and pretty at the same time." She smoothed her skirt down.

"How are skirts comfortable?" said Brittany.

"Well, it's a longer skirt," said Rose. "Knee-length."

"I guess that would be it," admitted Brittany. "Claire doesn't really like your skirts, and Branwen doesn't either. Sam wouldn't admit it if she did, but I think she might like the color scheme of the plaid, anyway. I like them."

"They wouldn't suit you at all," said Rose. "I'm told that this is what a lot of the girls in Beauxbatons wear, though. Victoire says she likes jeans better, but she writes her cousin Lisette, and they do have uniforms, but a lot of them like these knee-length plaid skirts. Apparently geek chic is the fashion in Paris these days."

She spoke thoughtlessly, but Brittany's eyes grew wide. "I thought you didn't care about that sort of thing!"

"Oh, no, I don't. But sometimes it's brought up when Victoire and Dominique are chatting about Lisette. I've sort of always wanted to go to France, so I thought I would pay attention."

"But you always wore the skirts, even at the beginning of the year."

  Rose shrugged. She wasn't about to say that she and her mother had bought one skirt at the store, multiplied it by fourteen, and done Color-Changing Charms on the lot of them, so that the plaids were different colors. She also had a sleeveless wool sweater that had been multiplied and Charmed to match the skirts, and one white blouse that had been multiplied. Rose only had four pairs of shoes, however: her plain black school shoes, moccasins, winter boots for outside classes in January, and her beloved riding boots, which served no purpose other than to make her feel good.

"You could wear something different one of these days," said Brittany. "We're about the same size, although I'm a little shorter than you. I could lend you an outfit."

"Thanks, but I'll have to decline," said Rose. "Better to keep me unfashionable than to have the wrath of Claire Connolly descend upon both of us."

Brittany smiled, then turned away just as Claire left the bathroom. Rose turned away too, putting a look of boredom and annoyance onto her face.

She was ready before her roommates and hurried downstairs. She wanted to talk to Albus about her idea. She thought he would approve.

She peeked into the Great Hall; it was only about seven forty-five, and most students weren't awake yet. Albus was just coming down the stairs, though. He saw her and waved. Rose went to him.

"I had an idea," she said.

"Will I like it?"

"I hope so. You see, now that the people who complained know we've been called down to the Headmaster's office, they'll expect us to stop sitting together or to keep doing it. I have a different idea, though, one that will offend everyone in such a way that they can't do anything about it, and I like it a lot. I want to approach the Headmaster about it, though, because if we do it without permission we'll be in _so_ much trouble."

"Slow down and explain the actual idea," said Albus, chuckling.

"We move a sixth table into the Great Hall."

"What?"

There are five tables in the Great Hall. Four for the Houses, one for the teachers. We move a sixth table into the Great Hall for people like us who are friends with people in other Houses and want to spend time with them. Family dinners, even. It's a way for you to suggest an idea to Professor Mycroft so that he'll have something to go on without feeling accused of not caring by you."

"Did I give him that impression?"

"Yes."

"Good." Albus's tone was thoughtful.

"But the thing is, we would have to include absolutely anybody who wanted to sit at the table. There would be no selectivity. If Bruna Goyle and all her henchpeople wanted to sit at the table with us, we would have to let them."

Albus considered. "They'll never say yes," he said, but his tone was wistful. "I mean, we defy tradition enough just by our regular seat shifting."

"I want to be able to associate with people of other Houses without my roommates trying to stick their noses in it," said Rose, "and I want to be able to do it soon. And you want that, too. Not that it's your roommates necessarily-"

"Quincey likes to harp on me about Scorpius," said Albus shortly. "It's not worth mentioning. I just ignore him. Kendrick is nice, but he goes in the same direction. Phil is a complete brick, talks to Scorpius just like he does me, but Alaric wavers rather. We all get along with each other just fine, but Quincey thinks I'm lowering myself."

"You lower yourself when you talk to Quincey," said Rose. "His dad tried to snog my mum, so I don't like him on principle. It will take a few days. Where shall we sit this morning?"

"I think we ought to be relatively inoffensive and sit at Gryffindor table," said Albus. "I do kind of wonder why your roommates complained, anyway. It's not as though we ever sit at Ravenclaw table."

"They want me to sit at the Ravenclaw table, and they want me to be forced to sit there, so that once Victoire is gone I'll be lonely and friendless," said Rose absently.

"I think that you think that they're too smart," said Albus.

"My policy is to never underestimate how low they'll sink." Rose thought of Brittany. "Well, most of them."

Scorpius trotted towards them. He frowned slightly at Rose. "Something is different about you," he remarked.

"I did my hair differently," said Rose. "Come on, let's go eat."

Norah joined them then, and the four of them made themselves at home at the end of the Gryffindor table. Rose glanced around the Great Hall, which was beginning to fill up. She watched her roommates settle at Ravenclaw table. When Claire shot her a look, she waved cheerfully, then turned around and pointedly ignored the other girl for the rest of the meal.

"That really is quite mean of you," said Albus, laughing at her.

"Yeah, well, she's not worth even that little bit of my attention," said Rose. "I do that to annoy her. Now, I'm thinking of our new table going _there_." She pointed at the empty wall next to Gryffindor table, which was at the southernmost end of the Great Hall.

"New table?" said Scorpius and Norah.

"Rose wants there to be a table in here where anybody can sit, because it will offend everyone but nobody will be able to say they're offended," explained Albus.

"Brilliant," said Scorpius.

"I like it," said Norah. "Will they let us do it?"

"Maybe if we're very diplomatic," said Rose.

She glanced at Albus and was suddenly reminded of the prophecy. He must have been thinking the same thing, because he cleared his throat and quietly told Scorpius and Norah about their meeting with Professor Trelawney the evening previous. Scorpius and Norah listened in silence. Norah looked worried and Scorpius impassive- nothing new there, of course.

"This is why we have to get all the Houses to work together," said Albus. "If this keeps up, something bad will happen. Professor Trelawney said as much. I mean, it's not Voldemort's return or anything, but it's bad."

His voice was steady, if quiet, and Rose found herself respecting how well Albus said things. Sometimes he had a way of phrasing that made everything perfect, when other people just bumbled around. And everyone liked Albus. But he had chosen the three of them- yes, he really had chosen them- to be his best friends. And even though Rose hated to feel that anyone was better than her, in some things, she was really honored by Albus's friendship. They all were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muhuahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha...


	13. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ideas are had and fights occur. (Yeah, I don't even know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The crackship of the fandom has sailed. I repeat, the crackship of the fandom has sailed.

Chapter Thirteen: Fight (Albus)

 

_Maximilian Hale Black. Maximilian Hale Black. Maximilian Hale Black._

Albus was not sleeping, as any eleven-year-old boy ought to have been on a Friday night, or technically Saturday, at four in the morning. He lay awake, plagued by the haunting fear that Maximilian Hale Black was a survivor of Sirius or Regulus Black. This was partially because Albus did not like the idea of a traitorous Death Eater survivor of the war to be affiliated with his great-uncle's name, but it was also out of a fear that number twelve, Grimmauld Place, would go to Maximilian Hale Black. Witherwings, the hearty, hale, forty-something-year-old hippogriff tethered in Hagrid's pumpkin patch, would go to Maximilian Hale Black. Kreacher would go to Maximilian Hale Black.

He had written his father the very same night they had made their discoveries, and was waiting on a response. He knew he would have a while to wait on this one; his mother had sent Hedwig, ancient and doddering, to James on Wednesday morning, just as Albus was beginning to feel impatient for a reply, with a letter that said, _Dad was called to Wales to investigate illegal dragon breeding business. Don't expect letters from_ _him for at least three weeks. Love, Mum._

Naturally, thought Albus ruefully, that was how it would turn out.

It was actually the very morning of Valentine's Day, and there would be a Quidditch match later on. Albus was regretting not going down to the infirmary for a Sleeping Potion. He had been somewhat ill, from the nightmares.

Always the same nightmare, of course. He would drift off in the cozy warmth of Gryffindor Tower, which was kept well-heated in the winter. Of course, Noddy often devoted special attention to the boys' dormitories of Gryffindor Tower, because he knew that Albus and James and Fred were all there. Sleep would flood him, and his eyes would gently close...

... _Darkness, a sort of red darkness hazing over the room. The room would slowly transform, slowly and surely, into a room of Spartan decoration. A wrought-iron bed with a thin mattress took one corner; the fireplace was home to flickering, dying embers; a threadbare rug and a worn, upholstered chintz armchair stood before the fire, only the back of it visible._

_Always Albus would drift forward- he was sort of insubstantial in his dreams- and peer around the side of the chair. And always he would see a face that was like Professor Hale's face, but yet nothing like it at all. The hairline receding; deep, umbrageous circles under the cold, blue-grey eyes; a malevolent sneer twisting the otherwise handsome face._

_Professor Hale, and yet not Professor Hale. Real, and yet not real, for Albus knew that the figure in the chair could see him but they could not touch._

_"You again?"_

And with a gasp, Albus woke up, sitting bolt upright from under the heavy, hot covers. He flung them off and swung his feet out of bed. Quincey was snoring, and Phil mumbled something about Quidditch and rolled over.

He couldn't sleep. It was time to explore.

First he took a shower and got dressed for the day, wearing Gryffindor colors. It was the Gryffindor-Slytherin game. Ravenclaw had naturally won against Slytherin, but as far as points went Slytherin still had Gryffindor creamed. Ravenclaw had four hundred and sixty points, Slytherin had three hundred fifty, Gryffindor had two hundred thirty, and Hufflepuff had one hundred seventy. For Gryffindor to move to the top of the standings, they would have to score at least two hundred and thirty points, and that _before_ catching the Snitch. If only Melanie weren't playing. He sighed.

On went the Invisibility Cloak, and out of the dormitory he crept, tiptoeing into the common room. He went past the dying fire and crept out into the hallway, pushing the Fat Lady's portrait slowly so as not to wake her up.

Once out in the hallways, he considered going back and trying to sleep in the common room. It was cold in the halls; Hogwarts had never been a terribly weatherproof place, and since the Battle of Hogwarts and subsequent rebuilding of various wings, towers, and walls had been slapdash at best, in a hurry before students returned for the fall. He shivered and shivered for a few moments; then decided that he would go to the library. It was usually warm in the library, as it had to be kept dry for the books, and he could possibly do some reading up on his Transfiguration essay. Professor Creevey had sent back a Transfiguration essay one day with a note scribbled at the bottom- "Nice job, full marks, but you could be doing so much more, you know." Albus took the advice to heart. He wasn't Rose, but he could make an effort in a subject he liked.

He slid into the library and headed for the Transfiguration section. He glanced at a few, chose a few titles at random, and sat down at a table near a window. At four-thirty, five in the morning, the sky was nearly light enough to read by. Albus took out his wand and whispered, " _Lumos_."

He opened the first book, and glanced almost carelessly at the flyleaf. A scribble caught his eye, a well-drawn series of letters, four sets with two each. But the pictures caught his attention; next to each set of letters was a different animal, the ink charmed to show it in motion, running.

Slowly, Albus touched the rat, the wolf, the dog, and the stag in turn, and said softly, "Hello, Grandad James."

The letters moved, and so did the pictures. The initials slid outwards and formed names: James Potter, by the stag; Sirius Black, by the dog; Remus Lupin, by the wolf; and Peter Pettigrew, by the rat."

"Who was writing in Indeliable Animation Ink, I wonder?" murmured Albus. "Probably not Uncle Remus, he liked books. Probably not Wormtail, either." He didn't know why he was talking aloud- after all, he could be caught any moment. When did Filch ever sleep, or Mrs. Norris, for that matter? But he felt like the book was speaking to him, in a way, with the graffiti.

He glanced at the title again. _Animagi for Idiots._

Instantly he knew what book he was looking at. It was the very book that had taught his grandfather and his friends the art of the Animagi, or shape-shifters. Remus Lupin hadn't needed it, of course; he was a werewolf. But James, Sirius, and Wormtail had had to become Animagi, to help out.

Albus flipped to the back of the book and noted that a Security Seal had been placed on the back cover, to prevent the book from being stolen. It wouldn't be stealing if he borrowed it; after all, it was Hogwarts property, and it would remain in Hogwarts. He knew he was too young to be an Animagi, but there was always the possibility of later, or just of keeping the book to show to Dad when he came to Hogwarts in May to do his annual N.E.W.T. lecture to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

But just to be safe, he carefully placed the tip of his wand on the Security Seal and said, " _Diffindo_." It was a second-year charm, but it was worth a shot.

To his delight, the tip of his wand pierced the book, and he was able to direct the wand movement to slice the Security Seal from the book. Nothing happened, so Albus set the book down, picked up the Security Seal, and muttered, " _Incendio_."

The Security Seal burst into flame; it was a fairly small piece of the cover, so it burned quickly, making a high-pitched whine while so doing. Albus slid _Animagi for Idiots_ under the Cloak with him and took the other books back to the shelf. He was just in time; as he turned from putting the last few books in place, Madam Pince trotted into the library, holding a candle and squinting, dressed only in her nightgown and some sort of incredibly furry negligee.

"Who's there?" she quavered. Albus slipped past her as quietly as he could; she had sharp ears yet, though her eyes weren't good. He placed one hand on the door and was abruptly shoved by someone on the other side, trying to come in.

"Damned door," he heard, a sort of grunt. "Sticks something awful." An old, pitiful mew agreed with him. Albus winced inwardly, moved out of the way, limping and clutching his throbbing hand, and made his way around Filch and Mrs. Norris and moved to the doorway, then peeked back in.

"What's going on, Irma?" said Filch, in possibly the nicest tone of voice Albus had ever heard Filch use. It was still impossibly unpleasant.

"A student has been in here," she said crossly. "Someone set off a Security Seal. I don't know which one, though. It was in the Transfiguration section."

"Well, Mrs. Norris and I will find them," said Filch, drawing himself up straight. Albus wanted desperately to laugh. "Don't you worry about a thing, Irma."

"What are you doing up, Argus?" said Madam Pince, and suddenly her voice was rather coy for an eighty-something-year-old woman.

"Oh, I was in the area," said Filch. "I-er-" But he stopped, and didn't continue.

A thought of mischief rose to Albus's mind; he remembered a laughing conversation his parents had had once about Madam Pince and Filch being secretly in love. He would do them a good turn. He called to mind the spell that Matthias had used to open Professor Hale's door. He backed out of the room, silently closed the door, and whispered, " _Magiclavicus_."

The lock clicked in a satisfying way, and Albus, hardly believing his good luck, sprinted back up to the common room with _Animagi for Idiots_.

Settling down by the dying fire, he began to read, as the sun came up over the snow-covered mountains and lit the frozen lake. If he wasn't completely numb after the Quidditch match, maybe he would go skating with Rose, Scorpius, and Norah. That would be fun.

He had read as far as the second chapter when student began to sleepily wander downstairs for breakfast. Albus closed his book, got to his feet, and went up to his room to stow both book and Invisibility Cloak in his trunk.

James met him at the door. "You're up early," he said, in disappointed surprise.

"Were you going to jinx me out of bed?" teased Albus. "Sorry to let you down. I had some, er, homework. Are you ready?"

"Now that I know what flying a Quidditch match is like, I'm not even nervous at all," boasted James. "In fact, I am feeling quite good. I'm ready to send those Slytherins running home like little baby girls."

"You know, five of the seven Slytherin Quidditch players are girls," said Albus solemnly, "and most of them could punch your lights out."

They were met in the Great Hall by Fred, who seemed pleased at James's change of nerves regarding Quidditch. He was holding hands with Lin Wood, who smiled at them all softly.

"Let's go eat," said James, heading for the Gryffindor table.

Fred looked at Lin. She kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck," she told him, and walked to her own table.

Albus chuckled at Fred's expression, which was torn between gratitude, longing, and nerves, and followed James to the Gryffindor table, but paused as he looked at the Slytherin table. Scorpius didn't dare sit at the Gryffindor table, not on a Quidditch day, and Albus didn't dare sit at Slytherin table with his friend, but Scorpius was not yet in the Great Hall. Which was odd, because he was usually early.

Someone prodded him in the side; Rose, with Norah. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said briskly. "Where's Scorpius?"

"I was just wondering the same thing," said Albus. "Go ahead and get breakfast. I... forgot something."

Rose rolled her eyes. "What, you're trying to lie to me about it because I'm not Scorpius's best friend? I know you're going to go look for him. I imagine he's somewhere in the dungeons. Bruna Goyle's absence at her table is also noted, as they actually appear to have food left. Come on."

The three of them walked out of the Great Hall. Albus nearly bumped into Professor Lympsham. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled.

"It's quite all right," she said coolly, walking past him.

Albus didn't have the Cloak this time; instead he led the way into the dungeon, stepping silently and breathing through his nose. Rose followed suit, and Norah tried to do the same. All three of them held their wands at the ready.

They turned into the corridor where Albus had previously rescued Scorpius, but he wasn't there. There was, however, an abandoned wand on the floor. Albus picked it up and examined it. Mutely he showed it to Rose and Norah. It was a dark, almost black wood. Ebony. Scorpius's wand was ebony.

Albus held up his finger for quiet and listened. He closed his eyes, to help himself hear better.

Faint echoes sounded along the corridor; a muffled thud, a quiet groan. The three of them peered around the corner from where the echoes seemed to be coming from. There was nothing. Albus went forwards quietly, his wand poised and tense in his hand, curses and hexes running through his head. The echoes were getting louder.

"-filthy blood traitor!" someone said, and he recognized the slow, rough burr of Bruna Goyle's voice.

"You can punch me as much as you want, but it's not going to stop me from being friends with whomever I please," said Scorpius, his voice somewhat faint. "You think I would rather be friends with _you_ , when you use me as a human punching bag? Oh, I forgot, you _have_ no friends, Goyle. You'd rather have the filthy blood traitor as a friend than spend Valentine's Day skulking around, envying the girls who have boyfriends. Grow up."

And then came a series of thuds, and one wickedly sharp crack. Scorpius let out a small noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, but there was nothing babyish or pathetic about it.

Albus rarely got angry, but he was getting there. Rose, on the other hand, didn't have to get there. She stormed around the corner and shrieked, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Albus and Norah joined her at once, but Rose really didn't need much help. She had the Hover Charm fixed on Bruna Goyle's hair, clubbed back into a braid for the Quidditch match, and she was throwing the older girl around by her hair, hitting the other Slytherins present. Albus was impressed. It had to be a very good Hover Charm- Bruna weighed two hundred-odd pounds. He hurried to Scorpius, who lay prone on the floor, breathing shallowly.

"How dare you!" shouted Rose, her voice amplified by the narrow, echoing halls of the dungeons. "How dare you, _seven upperclassmen_ , pick on a lone first-year? Is it because you have no sense of chivalry or honor, or is it because you're too stupid to learn about those kinds of things? I can tell you this: I am a first-year, and I can beat the lot of you in spellwork because I am smarter than all of you! And I might be smart, but he's smart, too! The only reason that you lot don't end up at the hospital wing every day instead of him is because he _lets_ you beat him! And there may be some stupid, prideful reason for it, some stupid prideful reason that Ravenclaw me, Weasley me, girl me, may not understand, but I understand that you lot are stupider than a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a puddle! Clearly your ancestors have mated with giants, or you wouldn't be so big and so cruel and so incredibly THICK!"

Norah and Albus helped Scorpius to his feet. Albus gave him his wand.

"You're worth ten of them, Malfoy," said Norah softly.

Scorpius stared at her, his gaze unfocused, through two bruised, swollen eyes. His mouth hung open a little, puffy and bleeding. There were cuts on his cheeks and forehead, and his arm hung limply at his side.

Rose was still shouting and hurling abuse at the Slytherins, who were knocked place to place as Bruna Goyle's body smashed into each of them repeatedly. "You've never been on the receiving end of her bullying, have you? No, that's reserved for the honorable people, like Scorpius! Well, maybe you'll think better of working for Bruna when you see how it feels for her to be hitting _you_!"

" _Finite Incantatem_ ," said a smooth, quiet voice.

Bruna dropped to the ground and lay there, moaning. Professor Lympsham glided past them and gazed at what she saw, then said quietly, "Fifty points from Ravenclaw, Miss Weasley. It's a Quidditch match, and you have injured my Beater."

"She started it," said Rose stubbornly.

"Well, I didn't see that, did I?" said Professor Lympsham sweetly. "I saw you, mauling my student. I shall have to speak with Professor Brocklehurst and arrange a detention."

"Excuse me, Professor-" started Albus.

"One more word, Mr. Potter, and I will take fifty points from Gryffindor as well."

"Please look at Scorpius, Professor," said Norah quietly.

There was a silence, and then, Professor Lympsham, unwilling to ignore her favorite student, looked at Scorpius.

"Bruna and those others did this," said Norah, in that same quiet tone. "Are they not to be punished, for also attacking a Slytherin student?"

There was another silence, and then Professor Lympsham let out a tiny sigh. "They will be punished in due form," she said coolly. "But we have a match today, and they need to be in good shape. Miss Goyle, please have your friends escort you to the hospital wing." She turned and began to walk away.

Rose stared after Professor Lympsham, furious, and opened her mouth to start shouting again, but Albus shook his head. "We have to take Scorpius to the hospital wing," he told her.

"You will do no such thing," said Professor Lympsham suddenly. "If you take them both up, Madam Pomfrey will not have time to heal both of them before the match. Take Mr. Malfoy to the match as he is. Or, if he cannot handle it, escort him to the Slytherin common room. In either case, Mr. Malfoy's condition is not the priority right now."

Albus boiled over. He and Rose both began shouting at once.

"So if Scorpius were a Quidditch player, you would send him up? Oh, that's rich-"

"He's hurt! He needs treatment! If you weren't a vile old hag you could see that for yourself-"

" _Silencio_ ," said Professor Lympsham. Albus and Rose found themselves unable to speak. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and another fifty points from Ravenclaw. Dear me, we aren't doing too well for ourselves, are we? Miss Longbottom, I would advise you to keep your mouth shut if you value your House. I can see you all disapprove of my actions. If you take Mr. Malfoy up to the hospital wing before the match begins, I will give all of you detention. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," said Norah, and her voice was cold.

"Good. Be off with you, then." Professor Lympsham opened her office door and closed it, smiling sweetly out at them.

Rose and Albus could only shake their heads in disbelief for a few moments; then the Silencing spell wore off.

Scorpius moaned; one of the cuts on his head was dripping blood onto the floor.

"Come on," said Norah briskly, and to everyone's surprise she led them up the hallway.

"Um, where are we taking him?" said Albus.

"Not the hospital wing, I assure you," said Norah. Her voice remained cool.

They emerged into the ground-floor hall. Norah helped Scorpius and Albus sit on the lowest step, then walked over to the Great Hall. She stuck her head in, and suddenly an ear-piercing whistle filled the hall.

Moments later, she returned with Professor Longbottom. He saw Scorpius, and his face curled into a frown.

"What in the name of Merlin have you been doing, Norah?" he said.

"Bully patrol," said Norah, rather cheekily. "Scorpius got in the way of Bruna the human Bludger."

"I'll say," croaked Scorpius, but the words sent bubbles of blood from his mouth. He coughed, and it was red.

"Punctured lung," said Professor Longbottom. "And why is he not in the hospital wing?"

"Professor Lympsham expressly forbade us to go to the hospital wing," said Rose sourly.

Professor Longbottom shook his head in disapproval and murmured, " _Expecto Patronum_." A silvery wisp shot from his wand and fluttered up the stairs.

"My dad can't do a Patronus," mumbled Scorpius. His eyes were wandering. "'Cause he's a Death Eater. They can't do Patronuses."

"What animal is your Patronus, Dad?" asked Norah.

Professor Longbottom was rolling up his sleeves and performing spells on Scorpius; the cuts on his forehead sealed themselves up and the blood vanished. It was a moment before he answered. "Er, a sparrowhawk," he said absently. "It didn't take a shape until a few years after the Battle of Hogwarts, during my Auror days."

Madam Pomfrey came racing down the stairs, surprisingly spry for an old woman. "Neville, I got your Patronus. Why- oh, dear me." She trotted the last few steps and knelt over Scorpius. "Why wasn't he brought upstairs?"

"Isn't Bruna Goyle up there?" said Rose viciously.

"Well, yes. Looks like someone hit her with a frying pan. But this is much, much worse- you probably shouldn't even have moved him! He might have to go to St. Mungo's-"

"NO!" shouted Scorpius, and a blood bubble popped from his mouth.

"Relax, dear," said Madam Pomfrey crisply. "I said _might_ , not will." She drew her wand and began murmuring spells.

"What is going on here?"

Professor Lympsham stood staring at them. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were full of fury. Albus felt that if she could, she would scorch Rose and him into little pieces with just her eyes.

"My daughter summoned me to help tend to a student injury, and I made the call that it was out of my depth and so I called Madam Pomfrey down here," said Neville, standing up and facing Professor Lympsham squarely. "Scarlett, Rose told me you forbade them to go to the hospital wing. That's not how we do things here. But I decided I was going to bloody well bring the hospital wing to them."

Professor Lympsham's eyes blazed. "Madam Pomfrey's attention should be on Bruna, as an injured Quidditch player who is to play in an hour and a half," she said icily.

"Miss Goyle's fine," said Madam Pomfrey without looking up. "She might have lost a few IQ points, possible concussion, but I fixed her up in a jiffy. The others with her are also bruised, but bruises heal quite well. Punctured lungs, shattered wristbones, and scars heal less nicely."

"Not that Bruna had very many IQ points to begin with," Albus murmured to Scorpius, who smiled feebly.

"And I think, Scarlett," said Professor Longbottom, looking Professor Lympsham in the eye, "that for taking the trouble to help their badly injured friend and keeping him calm and out of shock, Norah, Rose, and Albus each deserve fifty points. Quite brave, for three eleven-year-olds."

There was a long silence, and then Professor Lympsham said curtly, "As you like," and walked away.

"Hold still," Madam Pomfrey said to Scorpius. "Norah, come here and hold his head. Albus, brace his torso. I have to fix the rib, and I don't want to puncture anything else."

"I need to hex something," said Rose stiffly, pacing back and forth. "I really, really need to hex something."

"Run outside and shoot a few spells at a rock," Neville advised her. "Just don't hit the castle wall. It will bounce back a lovely little curse on you. You have my permission."

Rose raced outside. Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at Scorpius's chest and said, "Episkey."

Scorpius stiffened, and then a crackling noise sounded in his chest. He took a deep breath.

"Be gentle on that for a few days," Madam Pomfrey advised him. "What were you doing, stacking dictionaries on your diaphragm?"

"Hardly," said Scorpius. "I was being bullied."

Madam Pomfrey squinted at him, then sighed. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I didn't recognize you under all that blood. That's what, the seventh time this year?"

"What?" said Albus and Professor Longbottom in unison.

Scorpius flushed, and opened his mouth to say something, but Madam Pomfrey pushed his mouth closed and held it shut while she performed a little spell on his nose, which was crooked and swollen.

"Why didn't you tell me?" exclaimed Albus.

"More to the point, why didn't you tell anyone?" said Professor Longbottom. "Good Lord, and I thought you were smart!"

"Daddy!" said Norah, aghast.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't really mean that. The smart thing to do would be to tell someone. Me, Professor Mycroft, Professor Lympsham-"

  "I went to her first," said Scorpius thickly, as Madam Pomfrey moved to his wrist. "She's my Head of House. She doesn't really like me coming and pestering her about it all the time, so she takes a few points off the bullies and doesn't _do_ anything."

"Are your yearmates all right?" said Professor Longbottom.

Scorpius nodded. "They're fine." Albus knew this was probably a half-truth; he had heard the Slytherin boys and a few of the girls saying awful things to Scorpius, but Scorpius merely ignored them, and Albus had followed suit, assuming that Scorpius simply didn't care. "Honestly, it's just Bruna."

"That one is the reason half the people are in the hospital wing this year," said Madam Pomfrey, shaking her head. "Open your mouth, boy- Merlin, what's happened to your teeth?"

"A few of them are in the dungeon corridors," said Scorpius wryly, and Albus noticed for the first time that there was a slight whistling sound issuing from his friend's mouth. "Bruna Goyle has another. She decided to rip out my canine tooth when I tried to bite her."

"How did they get you away from your wand?" asked Albus.

"Ambushed me," said Scorpius. "I swear, I'm not going to be able to walk in the halls alone ever again."

"Hush, I'm regrowing your teeth," said Madam Pomfrey, and for a few moments Scorpius was silent.

Finally she released him and said, "Do you need to take anything?"

"I have a wicked headache, and the stairs are wobbling," said Scorpius, who was still sitting.

"Possible concussion," noted Madam Pomfrey. "I can fix that in a jiffy." She tapped his head with her wand. He blinked, then shook his head.

"Let me clean you up," Professor Longbottom said to Scorpius. " _Tergeo_." The dried blood on his shirt crumbled and fell off, leaving a fresh white shirt and a clean sweater. "Are you going to the match?"

"Yes," said Scorpius. "But I have to sit in the Slytherin section." He sounded miserable.

"Miss Goyle will be in the pitch, not in the bleachers," said Madam Pomfrey, "or as a trained Healer I would insist you sit in the teacher's box."

Bruna at that moment came down the stairs, still dressed in her Quidditch robes and looking as though she had gone for a roll down a mountain. Rose came back inside at the same time, her face calm and composed, though the corner of her mouth twitched when she saw Bruna, as though she was trying not to laugh. Bruna's face twisted up in rage. Albus, watching the exchange, knew that Rose was not really amused; she had made that face expressly to annoy Bruna.

"Don't tease," he told her, as Bruna and her classmates headed outside for the pitch.

"I wasn't," said Rose. "Not much, anyway."

"I have an idea," said Albus to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Longbottom. "Can Scorpius sit in the Gryffindor section if nobody can see him?"

"I'm rooting for Gryffindor anyway," said Scorpius. "Can I, please? I'd rather not be mauled where I sit."

"Well, as long as they can't see you, I see no objection," said Professor Longbottom. "How do you intend to pull that off?"

Albus smiled. "Oh, I have something that will do."

There was only fifteen minutes until the match; Albus and Scorpius ran up to Gryffindor Tower to get Albus's Invisibility Cloak. As they went back downstairs, Scorpius veiled in the Cloak, Albus told him about the prank he had played on Madam Pince and Filch.

"I wonder if they're still there," said Scorpius, a laugh in his voice.

Albus grinned. "Easy enough to check."

They passed by the library door and listened at the keyhole for a moment; then they darted away, laughing as quietly as they could. Madam Pince and Filch were clearly kissing, from what they could hear.

"I thought it would be funny," chuckled Albus. "Mum and Dad always said the two old bats liked each other. Well, we have proof now. And I have a book on Animagi."

"For the Transfiguration essay?"

"That," said Albus, "and I might try and learn it in a couple of years."

"Seriously?"

"Why not?"

Scorpius was silent, then said slowly, "Yeah, why not."

They remained silent until they reached the bottom of the stairs, where Professor Longbottom, Madam Pomfrey, Rose, and Norah were waiting for them. Also present were two prefects, both Gryffindor. Albus thought they were seventh-years, but he couldn't remember. They were talking to Professor Longbottom in low voices.

"Ah, Albus," said Professor Longbottom. "There you are. And Scorpius?"

Albus hesitated, then said, "Is present. Sort of." He didn't want to tell them about the Invisibility Cloak, especially not the prefects. They would be suspicious of him for the rest of the year.

Professor Longbottom raised one eyebrow, which Albus responded to by fluttering his fingers a little bit, like a cape. The older man understood, then said abruptly, "Well, if you've made provisions for him, then we had all better be off to the match."

"I can't talk, can I?" said Scorpius quietly.

"To Rose and Norah and I you can," said Albus. "James, if you happen to meet him while under the Cloak, but not Fred. Only my family and the four of us know about the Cloak being here at school with me."

"Okay."

They walked outside, along the path to the Quidditch pitch. They were straggling behind most of the student body, but that was all right with Albus. As long as Scorpius wasn't going to get beaten up, it would be okay.

Without really realizing it, the four of them pulled back, walking behind Professor Longbottom, Madam Pomfrey, and the prefects, in a line. Scorpius, invisible, ghosted next to Albus without a sound; Rose was on his other side, and Norah was on her other side. They were a sort of team that way, thought Albus. Even if they hadn't become friends on the Hogwarts Express, they were still, by far the most unique people in their year, reflected Albus. He was the son of Harry Potter, the hero of the Wizarding World, and his mother was a semi-famous professional Quidditch player. Rose was the daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, the only companions of Harry Potter on his quest to destroy Voldemort. Norah was the daughter of Neville Longbottom, hero of the Battle of Hogwarts and resident Herbology professor. And Scorpius, while he was more infamous than famous, was still the son of Draco Malfoy, who at the eleventh hour had valued family more than which side they were on, who had been used and abused by Voldemort, who had endured pain of all kinds at his hands even though they had loyally served him. Albus knew all the stories; they were the bedtime stories of his life, told along with Babbity Rabbity and Cinderella and the Three Brothers and Rumplestiltskin. He knew Muggle stories from his father and Wizarding ones from his mother, and he knew battle stories from both of them. It could be no coincidence that the four of them were born in the same year, eleven, almost twelve years ago.

"Who's the oldest?" he said suddenly. "Of the four of us?"

They all looked at each other. "I turn twelve in early March," said Scorpius's voice out of thin air.

"May," said Rose.

"June for me," said Albus. "Norah?"

"August," said Norah softly.

"How did all four of us get to be born at the same time?" wondered Albus.

Once he asked the question aloud, he was met by a snicker from Rose, who said, "I do hope you aren't asking how babies are made, Al, because I would hate to be the one to tell you."

"I _know_ how babies are made. I was just wondering why the four of us were all born at the same time?"

There was a long pause, and then Norah said thoughtfully, "You know, that is an interesting thought. How did the coincidence occur that all four of us were, well, conceived within a few months of each other?"

"Maybe they all got drunk," said Scorpius, from under the Cloak.

"Scorpius!" said Norah and Rose in unison, scandalized.

"It could have happened," argued Scorpius. "My parents only wanted one kid, they told me that. I was born later than they wanted to have me. Mum had a hard time getting pregnant. If I had come when they wanted me, I would be a fourth-year right now. They tried everything- and yes, I know way too many details about this, I heard my grandmum and great-aunt Andromeda discussing this over Christmas in the parlor when I was supposed to be reading in the library but I was really sneaking around trying to avoid Teddy Lupin-"

"What for?"

"He always gets in trouble at out house, because he'd rather be at your Christmas dinner, so he causes a fuss every year," said Scorpius. "But anyway, my parents had a hard time getting me, and then I finally came because apparently my parents went out and bought a lot of really old and therefore really potent firewhisky, and the deed was done and I was born nine months later." He sounded uncomfortable finishing the sentence. "I mean, I don't know all the details, but I certainly know too many."

"That's the most open I've ever heard you get," said Albus.

"It's the Cloak, I think," said Scorpius. "I'll regret saying anything I've said once I take it off. Being invisible gives one a remarkable lack of inhibition."

"I'll say," murmured Rose.

They entered the pitch and climbed up to the Gryffindor section, just as Rory Finnegan began to announce the start of the match. They found seats in a solid Weasley section with Roxanne, Dominique, and Victoire, who were wearing red in support of Gryffindor. Victoire even had a Gryffindor scarf, though Albus strongly suspected it was Teddy's old one. Frankie and Meghan sat with them, too.

Albus didn't pay much attention to the match; Gryffindor was in fine form, scoring fifty points in the first three minutes of the game. Melanie Schwartz was being tailed by Joshua Knisely, the Slytherin Seeker; she was at least doing a slightly better job than she had done during the Hufflepuff match. James, Chrissy, and Chiff scored goal after goal, and Albus stopped listening to the commentary after four hundred points. He knew they would win, anyway; Slytherin had scored only twenty points, as their Chasers were large and slow and couldn't keep up with Gryffindor's star team.

So Albus did not pay attention to the match; he cheered when everyone else did and stood and yelled with the others, but he was thinking about what could have caused their parents to have them all at the same time. After all, James had no cousins exactly his age; Dominique and Roxanne and Frankie were all third-years, but they were the only examples Albus could think of. Lily and Hugo were the same age, and Louis and Lucy were only a year younger; from the Christmas cards he had gleaned from his parents he remembered that Ernie Macmillan, who had gone to school with their dad, had two kids. Tara was the girl, she was Lily's age, and Magnus was the same age as Lucy and Louis. Then there was Dean Thomas, who had two kids- one was fifteen or so, attending a magic academy in India with their mother's family, but the other one was ten. He thought their names were Sam and Asha, but he wasn't quite sure. Another card from Lee Jordan told about his daughter Serenity, also about eight years old. And Albus remembered that Marius Hale was nine, like Lily and Hugo.

Something poked him between the ribs. "Hey, the match is over," said Scorpius's voice.

"Oh, is it?" said Albus vaguely. "What was the score?"

"Six hundred and forty to thirty," said Scorpius, "and how did you not know that? You're the Quidditch nut."

"I'm preoccupied," said Albus. He glanced around. Gryffindor was still shouting and cheering. "Melanie actually caught the Snitch?"

"Yeah, she did," said Scorpius. "Flew right in front of her face, actually- lucky she had the presence of mind to snatch it before Knisely shoved her off her broomstick. It's something he would do."

Albus glanced at the Slytherin Seeker, who was tall and thin and weedy.

"He's a lot stronger than he looks," said Scorpius. "Shoved my nose mostly into my brain with just his elbow. That was in, oh, late October."

His voice was detached, uninterested.

"You really have to tell us every time you get beaten up," said Albus severely.

"Wish I had an Invisibility Cloak," said Scorpius. "Then they wouldn't notice me to look at me."

He sounded wistful.

"I can let you borrow it sometimes," said Albus. "If you particularly manage to piss someone off, I can lend it to you for a night. Or you can kip on our floor. If you don't snore, nobody will complain."

"Quincey and Kendrick will," said Scorpius, "and possibly Alaric, too. No, don't argue. I'm a Slytherin. I really do have to learn how to get along, and how not to get beaten up. When do you think we learn that Episkey spell?"

"I think that's an N.E.W.T. healing spell," said Albus.

"So if I work at it, I can probably get it by fourth year," said Scorpius. "By then, of course, I'll have spent more time at the hospital wing than in my dormitory."

They went into the Great Hall, and Scorpius said, "Come on, I have to give you your Cloak." An invisible hand pulled Albus over to the boy's bathroom, where Scorpius suddenly appeared. He handed Albus the Cloak, which Albus stuffed into the pocket of his robes.

"I was going to ask," Albus remembered suddenly, "do you want to go ice-skating on the lake? It's frozen over."

"Better than holing up in the library all afternoon," said Scorpius. "Thanks. Rose and Norah coming too?"

"I should think so," said Rose, appearing with Norah. "Who else is going to charm your trainers into skates?"

They went back outside. Rose tested the ice, did a Freezing Charm on it to double-check for safety, and enchanted all of their trainers so that ice-skating blades popped out of the soles. Norah, normally a tad clumsy on dry land, was a fairly graceful skater. Albus was decent, too. Rose had a lot of trouble with it, but Scorpius was an expert skater. "We have a pond at Malfoy Manor," he explained. "Usually the peacocks live near there, but in the winter they go inside."

"Did you go to Muggle school before you came here?" asked Rose.

Scorpius shook his head. "Mum taught me how to read and write and do figures. She also taught me how to skate, not that I'm bragging."

"Mum taught me how to skate, too," panted Rose, "and that's why I'm not terribly good at it. She thought a textbook teaching would be enough." Scorpius laughed, and they kept talking.

"I'm so glad they're finally getting along," said Norah quietly, next to Albus.

"Me, too," said Albus, "I wonder what did it?"

"I told her to be nice to him," said Norah, "because I hated when she was being cruel to him with every remark she made. She tried it, but suddenly they were real friends, not just being civil."

Albus looked at Norah in surprise. She laughed at him. "Boys," she said with a smile, "you never learn. Happy Valentine's Day, Al." She skated away, laughing, to join Scorpius and Rose, who had fallen over for the umpteenth time. Albus, chuckling, joined them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOTALLY FORGOT I HAD NORAH SAY THE THING. I AM SO PROUD THAT I THOUGHT OF THAT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS THING ANYWAY. You know sometimes when you write and it's like "wow I am the bomb.com?" yeah, that was me right there.


	14. Watch and Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's more plot and awkward questions are answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Marius Hale is named for Marius in Les Miserables. It's not because of the new movie- I read the brick as a senior in high school, when my school did the musical. I was in the pit. (Also he's gonna be friends with Hugo later and it's funny because Les Miserables was written by Victor Hugo so laugh with me hahahahahah okay it's not that funny)

Chapter Fourteen: Watch And Wait (Rose)

 

February passed quickly enough into March, but March dragged on and on and _on_ , in Rose's opinion. The few weeks that Albus had anticipated for the answering of his letter to his father about the prophecy and about the name of Maximilian Hale Black grew into months, as Uncle Harry, her father, and even her mother had been called, through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to investigate the illegal dragon breeding business in Wales. Hugo had even been sent to stay with Aunt Ginny and Lily in Godric's Hollow for the time being. They were stationed in Cardiff, mostly, but as they kept moving about, the owls couldn't reach them at all, and Albus certainly wasn't going to write his mother about it. So they had to wait. Rose spent most of March reviewing her notes from September to that point in-depth, creating study guides and schedules for herself, and stubbornly persisting with Herbology, hate it though she might. She scowled at the badly marked essays she got back, studied with Norah and even Frankie occasionally, went to Professor Longbottom for help, took pictures by the hundreds with her odd Muggle camera, and astonished herself and everyone else at the end of March one day by taking a pop quiz at the beginning of class with the rest and receiving full marks. With that she knew that she would do all right, in Herbology, for at least the rest of the year. The final exam she was still worried about.

She pushed Albus into studying, too. More often than not, he wanted to discuss who Maximilian Hale Black really was, or what Trelawney's prophecy meant, or how they could persuade Professor Mycroft to establish a table in the Great Hall where anybody could sit, regardless of House. But Rose insisted that he focus on his exams, which perhaps had a minor importance in comparison to the impending threat of the return of Death Eaters, but which had a major importance to their teachers. She wrote up study schedules for Norah and Scorpius, too, and to her surprise they did not object. Norah didn't mind because she could help drill them in Potions and get help with her Transfiguration homework from Albus, and Scorpius didn't mind because it kept him out of the Slytherin common room. They adopted a tiny classroom on the sixth floor on Saturdays, bringing pillows to sit on, food, and packs of Exploding Snap cards for when Rose dictated they could take breaks. As a result, all of them were doing very well in their classes, as well as any of the older students could have done in their first year. On the other hand, the fifth- and seventh-years were shut up in their rooms and the library constantly; O.W.L. exams were in early May and N.E.W.T.s were in late April. Rose saw Victoire at meals and when she was on duty in the Ravenclaw common room; otherwise, her cousin was studying hard. Rose knew that Victoire wanted to work in the Foreign Magic Policy Department at the Ministry, with an emphasis in French. She was sure Victoire would do superbly in the Ministry, and she would get to see Teddy every day.

"I've got it," said Albus one day.

Rose raised her eyebrows. The four of them were holed up in their little classroom. "What have you got?" she inquired.

"Why we were all born at about the same time," said Albus triumphantly. "I wrote Grandmum Weasley and asked if anything odd had happened about nine months to a year before we were all born."

"Albus Severus Potter, you did no such thing!" said Rose indignantly.

"I did," said Albus proudly.

Norah winced. "That's a little embarrassing."

"Well, I'm fairly sure that Grandmum Weasley thinks that I think that babies are spelled out of the Healer's medical kit at St. Mungo's, because there was not a trace of awkwardness in her reply," said Albus. He removed a letter from his pocket and began to read. "'Dear Al, thank you for your letter. Your grandad and I are doing very well, thanks. We see your mum quite a lot, as she brings Lily and Hugo round for dinner just about every day with your dad and aunt and uncle gone to Wales for work. You'll probably be at Hogwarts over Easter, because your aunt Fleur has invited your mother to go to France for a week over Easter, and Lily and Hugo will more likely than not go with them.'"

"So I'll be here, too," said Rose, resigned.

"Probably. If we beg, I bet we could go to Uncle George's or Uncle Percy's."

"I'd offer to take you to Malfoy Manor, but I think Dad would feel awkward," said Scorpius.

"We can't fit you in the Leaky Cauldron unless you're paying," put in Norah, "but if we could, we'd have you to stay in a heartbeat."

"Thanks for the offers, though," said Albus, and he continued to read. "'Your question was a little odd- funny, though, that it put me remembering about twelve years back. That was about September, almost seven years after the Battle of Hogwarts. It was incredibly odd, but one morning in September, the Wizarding world woke to see the oddest thing- there were seven strange lines drawn on the front of the Ministry building. It was so odd it made Muggle news, although the Ministry had the marks removed in short order. Then, the marks began to appear like clockwork, once a week, until the New Years before you were going to turn two. Always seven straight tallies, and it was very strange. Of course, your grandad being in the Ministry, and your dad and aunt and uncle, they learned more about the marks than others. Sometimes, in addition to the marks, there would be graffiti that read things like, "Seven for the seven parts," and ridiculous things like that. The Muggles were baffled, but for two or three years there was an odd sort of fear that we Wizards had, because of course the person behind it was referencing the Horcruxes and the seven years since Voldemort's death. Nobody panicked, because there hadn't been any violence, but it set everyone on edge, and no mistake. It's funny you should ask about it, as I was talking about it with Dromeda Tonks the other day. If it's for a history project, I've no doubt you can find out more about it in the library, though I wouldn't count on Irma Pince to help you. Write back soon, and write to Lily and Hugo, they get so dreadfully bored of Muggle school now that you and Rose aren't there with them. Love, Grandmum.'" Albus folded up his letter in silence.

All of them sat quietly, pondering the mysterious marks.

"Well," said Rose finally, "I suppose desperation makes people want to have children."

"And it lasted nearly two years, so that explains all the younger cousins," said Albus. When the rest of them looked at him, he explained about Molly, Lucy, Louis, Serenity Jordan, Tara and Magnus Macmillan, Sam and Asha Thomas, and Marius Hale, as far as he knew. When he was done, Norah nodded.

"Luna Scamander visits sometimes," she said. "She has twin boys, Lorcan and Lysander, that are ten years old. They're nice kids, but they don't look ten. Honestly, they look like they could be fourteen or fifteen, and they're very mature, too. But they're around the same age as everyone seems to be, too."

"Luna and her family visit us sometimes, too," said Albus. "She's great friends with Mum and Dad. But usually they're travelling."

Norah nodded. "Lorcan and Lysander have been to Australia, and Egypt, and Brazil, and so many other places. I'm always kind of jealous."

"Speaking of foreign travel," said Rose briskly, "we ought to be studying the habits of the Australian Horned Dragon and why they were used to give samples to find the twelve uses of dragon's blood."

"Because they're huge and have plenty of blood to spare," said Scorpius impatiently, "but what about me? My parents wanted to have me earlier than the rest of the kids born under the marks."

There was another long silence, and then Rose said cautiously, "Are you sure that your parents didn't know anything about the marks other than what we know?"

"I can ask them," said Scorpius, "but I'm not entirely sure they'll tell me. And I don't think they were in on it, Rose- my dad is so scared of the idea of the Death Eaters coming back, he went to Harry Potter for advice, and he doesn't even _like_ him, no offense, Albus."

There was another pause, and then, without Rose having to say anything, they returned to studying. It was another few hours before someone knocked on the door hard.

"Come in," called Rose.

It was Matthias Hale who came in, and his face was sober for once, without a trace of amusement in his eyes. He closed the door behind him and said quietly, "Max is a Death Eater for certain."

"The Dark Mark?" said Albus at once. Rose shuddered.

Matthias nodded. "Marius wrote me," he said softly. "Max went home this weekend, to check up on him. They were making pizza, and Max had a bottle of firewhisky in the cupboard, and he knocked it over when he was getting out the pizza sauce. The firewhisky spilled on his arm and Marius saw the Mark there clear as day- water doesn't get rid of whatever he uses to hide it, but alcohol does, apparently. But Marius had the sense to pretend he didn't see it and he wrote me as soon as they were done eating. He's scared out of his wits."

He held a crumpled letter in his tightly-clenched hand. Rose noticed that her friend's eyes were red around the edges.

"What do I do?" he said.

Scorpius stood up and went to Matthias; the older boy had a full head on Scorpius, but Rose was still wondering how the younger boy had gotten so tall without her noticing. "May I see the letter?" asked Scorpius. "I assume he drew it, if you're absolutely certain."

Matthias nodded and handed Scorpius the paper. Scorpius smoothed it out on the desk and examined it; the rest of them joined him.

The letter was simple, written in a clear, childish print. _Matty, you told me to tell you if Max did anything odd or ever looked strange. We made pizza and he spilled firewhisky on his arm when he was getting the pizza sauce out of the cupboard. The whiskey made a hissing sound and turned dark, and then there was a funny-looking tattoo on his arm and it looked like this._

At this point in the paper it was clear to see the skull shape, with the snake protruding from the open jaws and curving around. Even with the rough sketch of a nine-year-old boy, there could be no mistake. It was the Dark Mark.

_I looked away real quick and I don't think Max thinks I saw it because he didn't say anything about it, just swore and went in his room real quick and when he came back out I couldn't see it anymore. Didn't you tell me that was a tattoo like Death Eaters wear? Is Max a Death Eater? I'm scared, Matty. What do I do? From, Marius._

"What you have to do is wait until Max returns from his visit with Marius," said Scorpius clearly. "It's Sunday afternoon, so he'll have to be back tonight, right? When he comes back, write Marius and tell him to go to..." he trailed off in thought.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," said Albus.

Rose, Norah, Scorpius and Matthias all looked at him.

"Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin live there nowadays. It's perfectly safe, and you can't get in unless you know about it. Which if you tell Marius to go there, he'll know about it. But neither of you can ever tell Professor Hale about it, or he'll be able to get in."

"Is there a Fidelius Charm on it, or something?" asked Matthias, frowning.

"There used to be, but it's rather widespread. Still safe, though, because we're warned not to tell just anybody about it. If Marius can tell Andromeda and Teddy what's going on, Teddy can get word to the Auror Department, because he has an internship there, and they can investigate your brother's flat for evidence."

"But that's illegal."

"Not if there's sufficient evidence of Dark activity. If a Death Eater in hiding is living in your house and you have proof of it or an eyewitness account, the Aurors will count that as sufficient evidence. Of course, Professor Hale will know that they're onto him the next time he goes to visit Marius. Marius knows where King's Cross Station is, right?"

Matthias nodded.

"Tell him to take the Knight Bus from there to number twelve, Grimmauld Place." Rose was amazed at how assured Albus sounded about it. "He'll be safe enough, and you can be sure that Great-Aunt Dromeda will feed him well. She cooks really well."

"But she has nothing on Grandmum," added Rose.

Matthias's shoulders sagged a little, and Rose realized it was in relief. "Thank you," he said. "You've made my mind so much easier."

"It's the least we could do," said Albus.

It was odd, thought Rose, seeing Matthias regarding something he really cared about. Every conversation she had had with Matthias up to this point, excepting the one where he had asked to be her friend, had always had a glimmer of fun in it- usually more than a glimmer, knowing Matthias- but now he was completely serious, completely responsible. More of a parent than an older brother, thought Rose; but Professor Hale worked in the Ministry, so perhaps Matthias knew what it was like to be the parent.

"Can we make a copy of your letter?" asked Scorpius, holding his hand out.

Matthias nodded. "Do any of you know the Duplicating Spell?"

"I know the incantation, but isn't that N.E.W.T. levels?" said Rose.

"Yep," said Matthias, pointing his wand at the note. " _Geminio_."

"Showoff," Rose told him. He grinned shakily.

Scorpius took the copy and handed it to Albus. "Evidence," he murmured.

"We should have thought to do that with the leather-bound book in Professor Hale's office," said Rose, annoyed at herself for not thinking of it.

Matthias shrugged. "You're not perfect, Miss Weasley- although you probably come quite close." A tiny spark of the mischievous rekindled in his eyes. "Again, thank you. I probably owe you all a lot now." He bowed, curiously formally, and left the room.

"Wow," said Albus, after a moment.

"Evidence," said Scorpius gleefully, "and now we can get Professor Hale arrested and you can stop having bad dreams and actually get some sleep, Albus."

Albus shrugged. "I've been sleeping a little better," he said, in such a noncommital fashion that Rose knew it was only a half-truth.

But suddenly he jumped to his feet. "I can't stand this," he said quietly. "I really can't. We have evidence and we have an eyewitness account. But we can't tell anybody- nobody but the Aurors."

"Why not?" said Scorpius. "Surely Professor Mycroft would listen-"

Rose sighed. She understood Albus. "Who would you believe if you were Professor Mycroft, Scorpius- the word of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, or four kids that you've already had pulled into your office because of complaints made about them? He's not going to believe us."

"Albus is the son of Harry Potter," said Scorpius. "Who wouldn't believe him?"

"I'm glad you have such faith in me, Scorpius," said Albus with a smile, "but I don't think that my family history is going to help me here."

"Yours would be better than mine," said Scorpius darkly.

Norah cleared her throat suddenly. "What if," she began timidly, but trailed off after a moment, frowning.

"What is it, Norah?" asked Rose.

"It's nothing, it's stupid," said Norah quickly, "and anyway I don't think it would work."

"What is?" said Albus gently.

"If we borrowed your brother's map," she said, her eyes downcast, "and kept an eye on Professor Hale, when he wasn't teaching, when he's just in his room on his own, we could maybe keep a lookout for if he tries anything bad."

"That's a fantastic idea, Norah!" said Rose.

"We should really just have your cousin Fred Duplicate the map for us," said Scorpius.

"He tried," said Albus, "when James first showed him the map. It doesn't work like that- I think that Remus Lupin probably enchanted it so that you couldn't Duplicate it."

"But we could ask to borrow it sometimes, yeah?" said Scorpius. "Maybe we should just make our own map, seriously."

"Ha," said Rose. "As if we could for a few years yet."

"Well, I could tail Professor Hale with the Cloak," said Albus, "and my dad got a spell from Severus Snape that works pretty well with people not being able to hear you."

"Seeing how he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, that's probably not such a good idea," said Rose dryly. "A better idea is setting up some sort of alarm spell when he goes to certain areas that he shouldn't be in."

"Like which areas?"

"All of the towers except the Owlery and the D.A.D.A tower," said Rose thoughtfully, "and outside the grounds, obviously-"

"He's a teacher," said Norah. "He's allowed to be anywhere he wants."

They sat in silence once more, desperately trying to think of ways to keep tabs on Professor Hale.

"We're just going to have to be really observant," said Rose finally.

"Easier for you than us," said Albus, "but I think that's probably the best plan. Watch and wait." He sounded thoroughly depressed about the "best plan."

 

March rolled along still, and when the beginning of April arrived, Rose was glad, because with it came sunshine and breezes over the lake from the south. The teachers began to open their windows, and in Charms, Professor Brocklehurst took a particularly fine day to bring them all outside and teach them about the magical properties of wind.

They stood in rows on the meadow just west of the lake, outside of the Quidditch pitch. Rose stood with Albus, Phil, and Alaric and they listened to Professor Brocklehurst.

"Wind is a very important magical factor," called their teacher. "In Charms, we often use feathers, or pillows stuffed with feathers, or even live birds to practice on because birds are creatures of the air and flight, in and of itself, is a sort of magic. Even without brooms there's a magic to soaring in the sky." Rose glanced at Albus; for the first time since that one awful day when he had looked deathly ill, he seemed much, much healthier, paying strict attention to Professor Brocklehurst and smiling at what she said. Rose was fascinated, too, but she was worried more about her cousin at the moment than the magical properties of wind.

"What do you think some of the properties of wind are that make it of use in magic?" asked Professor Brocklehurst. This wasn't a lesson in the book, so Rose wasn't entirely sure, but she had an idea about it. She raised her hand, a fraction of a second before Claire Connolly did.

"Miss Weasley," said Professor Brocklehurst, nodding.

"Well, wind carries four of the five senses," said Rose. "I remember reading that spells often affect the five senses, and anybody can feel, hear, smell, or taste wind. But it's not visible, and a lot of magic isn't visible either, so wind and magic coincide on four major levels."

"Excellent point, Miss Weasley, five points to Ravenclaw. You're correct, although there are other factors as well. Miss Connolly?"

"I think that if wind were to be strong enough it could possibly affect a spellcaster's aim," said Claire hopefully, with a snide glance at Rose.

"No, usually magic goes straight regardless of wind." Rose smiled sweetly at Claire, who scowled in chagrin."Five points to Ravenclaw for a good try, though. Spells are not in any way substantial, and therefore they are not affected by wind. They are properties of light, occasionally heat as well. The Muggles in recent years have begun to understand the nature of magic more and more, although they don't know about magic itself. But they understand that magic is energy, and they have definitely managed to harness energy in ways that help them to exist in this world. However, they don't have the capability to direct energy to do their bidding, and it is this ability which primarily separates Muggles and wizards. Have any of you studied Muggle sciences?"

Rose raised her hand; she had had a basic coverage of Muggle science in primary school. To her surprise, Phil Stanislaus also raised his hand.

"Mr. Stanislaus? Can you tell me what Muggles think about light?"

Phil nodded. "They think it's a lot of little bits, and a wave, at the same time."

"Good enough. Spells are like that, too. They are insubstantial streaks of light, and yet they are also powerful, carefully controlled bursts of energy. Wind is like this, too; it's not substantial, as you can't really grasp a breeze; but it is powerful, enough so that it can lift houses and people, even destroy them."

"Excuse me, Professor Brocklehurst," said Claire, raising her hand, "but what does Muggle science have to do with wind at all?"

Rose scowled at Claire.

"A valid question," said Professor Brocklehurst. "As the Muggles get closer and closer to finding out that magic exists, we have to be able to keep up with their studies. We are all human, and we share this world, whether we're wizards or Muggles. I would suggest to all of you that you read up on Muggle sciences and technologies when you go home for the summer, as you may find it interesting to understand how their world coincides with ours." She paused for a moment, then said, "How many of you tried to fly and succeeded when you were small?"

Rose looked around; Albus and Phil both sheepishly raised their hands, and so, to her surprise, did her roommate Brittany. A few other people raised hands also.

"Most Wizardborn children attempt to fly, and about two of every five of you succeed," said Professor Brocklehurst. "This is because of the magical nature of wind; it recognizes magic in you, and often it wants to hold you in the air. Flight without the aid of broomsticks or carpets or wandwork has been achieved by a few wizards. Other forms of magic are often performed by children before they receive wands and the training to use them. Levitation, speaking to animals, combustion, these are all common. Flight is perhaps the most common, however. But don't get any ideas: if you use a wand for magic, the ability to fly will generally fade away before long. So none of you jump off the Astronomy Tower, you understand?"

They all laughed, and Professor Brocklehurst dismissed them. Rose walked back with Albus, as they had planned to review for Charms in the hallway outside the Transfiguration classroom, after which they would walk to Flying with Norah and Scorpius.

"Today was really interesting," said Albus. "I mean, the idea of flying, without a broom or a carpet or a spell..."

"Carpets are illegal," said Rose. "And anyway, you already have, remember?"

"Yeah," said Albus, his eyes lighting up as he remembered. "I wandered out of the window of Uncle Ron's old room in the Burrow when I was four."

"Did you really?"

He nodded. "Lucky my mother came outside just as I started losing control over it, and she got me down safely."

Speaking of the Burrow reminded Rose of their Easter vacation, which would be spent at Hogwarts. "What do you want to do over Easter?"

Before Albus could reply, several loud giggles burst from behind them, and Claire Connolly's voice was heard to say, "Well, it's not like she's _interested_ in any other boys," whereupon Claire passed them, trailed by Branwen, Sam, and Brittany. All of them, except Brittany, glanced back at Rose and giggled loudly and unpleasantly.

Rose ignored it, because she honestly didn't care what they were saying, but Albus called out, "And it's not like any boys are interested in _you_ , Claire Connolly."

Claire stared at him, astonished; Albus had never been anything but cordiality to every person in their year, and the insult appeared to surprise her. Rose was just as surprised.

"How long have you known?" she asked him, as Claire and her minions scurried away.

"Matthias Hale told me," said Albus, and there was a tone of reproach in his voice. "I ought to have heard it from you, Rose. If Scorpius has to tell us when he gets beaten up and has to go to the hospital wing, then you have to tell us when they're being unpleasant to you."

Rose snorted. "If I did that, you wouldn't get a moment's rest or relaxation."

This silenced Albus for a moment, but then he said thoughtfully, "I wonder if there's any way for you or Scorpius to get private dormitories within your House. Specially enchanted so that none of the other students can get in, maybe smaller than the regular dorms, but with your own bathrooms and things."

"I've wondered myself," admitted Rose, "but it's not something I prioritize. Your nightmare problem and the possible return of Dark wizards is sort of more important."

They settled on the hallway floor a few yards away from the Transfiguration classroom door. Albus opened his Charms notes with a groan; he had four sets now, as he insisted on rewriting all of his notes out every time Rose had them do a comprehensive review. "Shall we switch off between Charms and Herbology? That way I practice Charms and you practice Herbology."

"Yes, please." They studied for a few minutes, but then, when she found a good review question to ask Albus, she paused a moment, then said softly, "Albus, do you think that we worry about your nightmares, and Professor Hale, and Death Eaters and things, do you think we worry about them too much? Should we be letting the adults take care of it?"

Abus considered, then said, "Yes, and no." He paused. "There isn't really an Order of the Phoenix anymore, because we don't need one. If there was, all we would have to do would be to tell them about Professor Hale, and they would have it taken care of in a heartbeat. But these days, with Voldemort gone, everyone believes that they're safe, that there's no evil left in the world. We both know that's not true. Our dads have almost been killed more often since they became Aurors than they did when they were running around destroying Horcruxes."

"Should we have just left it up to them?" said Rose quietly. "Kept our mouths shut? Said, oh, Professor Hale probably isn't a Death Eater, that's not very likely given that all known Death Eaters are in jail or dead or being carefully monitored, off the official record, like the Malfoys?"

"No," said Albus. "The problem with regular adults is that they don't want to think anything's wrong. Your parents and mine are different. They lived through a war. They would rather be safe than sorry. I think we learned that from them. But we're in school, and we're just kids- we can't take action ourselves, Rose. It's just not going to happen."

"I think it could," said Rose.

Albus looked at her.

"We have our parents in us." Rose felt a little self-conscious, saying things that sounded so idealistic, almost romantic. "They were great wizards. They are great wizards. I know I'm talented, and I know that you're talented. Norah underestimates herself, but she's talented, too. Scorpius has proved himself a lot, more than I like to admit. James and Fred are never serious, but they know some pretty complex spellwork, to pull off the pranks they do. Victoire is really talented, and that group of Dominique, Roxanne, and Frankie are also really talented. We're Weasleys and Potters, Grangers and Longbottoms, Johnsons and Delacours and Abbotts and Finnegans and even Malfoys. We know what we're doing, when it comes down to it. And if it comes to a fight, we'll be able to manage, because we'll be able to run or hide or even fight back well enough that we can survive. I just know it."

Slowly, her cousin nodded. Rose felt herself flushing.

"You're right," he said. "We are all that. We won't ever fight alone, no matter what."

They kept studying, but it was Albus who interrupted her this time. "Do you think we decided right, about Professor Hale and not doing anything?"

Rose nodded.

"Maximilian Hale Black," mused Albus quietly. "I wonder-"

"Excuse me, but what are you doing loitering in the corridors?" said a quiet voice before them.

Rose looked up and repressed the desire to gasp. Professor Hale himself stood before them, his face a mask of indifference. He was even thinner than usual, the cheekbones of his face prominent and waxy, the skin appearing to stretch over his now-gaunt frame. His hair hung too long- it needed a trim, and the blue-grey eyes were more blue than grey, their color hiding any expression with coolness. She couldn't tell if he had heard Albus or not.

"We're studying," said Albus, after the tiniest pause. Rose felt that pause, knew that Professor Hale felt it, too, from the way he glanced from Albus to Rose.

"Early preparation for the exams?" Professor Hale raised his eyebrows. "My, my, the two of you are quite dedicated. Your final exams aren't until late May, I think."

"We want to do really well," said Rose. Which was not a lie at all, she told herself virtuously.

"Admirable," said Professor Hale. "However, you are blocking the line of traffic. If you would have the goodness to sit on the other side of the hallway? Thank you very much."

Rose and Albus scrambled to move their things, and Professor Hale watched them for a moment, then kept walking.

Rose didn't think she breathed properly until he had vanished from sight.

"He looks awful," said Albus softly, and Rose exhaled in relief.

"I just hope he didn't hear us."

"Me, too," said Albus, wincing. "He probably remembers that we 'waited outside' when Matthias broke into his office to 'get his textbook.'"

"Shh," said Rose nervously. "You could be making it worse."

"Let's study then," said Albus, "and try not to worry about it."

As the hour ended, Rose and Albus packed up their things and waited as the flood of Transfiguration students poured from the room. Last were Norah and Scorpius, who joined them as they walked downstairs to Flying lessons. In an undertone, Rose related the encounter with Professor Hale to their friends.

Norah turned white. "Oh, my goodness. That was close."

"We probably should never talk about this outside of our little room upstairs," added Scorpius, his eyes sharp with concern.

"It was my fault," said Rose. "Albus was talking, so I ought to have been looking out for eavesdroppers."

"It happens, I forgive you," said Albus, at the same time that Scorpius said, "Yes, you should have been." Rose had to laugh at that, and that made Norah smile, too. It was never too hard for them to stay in good spirits.

They passed Hagrid on the way out to the pitch, all of them waving, even Scorpius, but Hagrid stopped them for a moment. "Rose, Al, could I jus' have a word," he said. "If yeh trust yer friends, yeh can bring 'em."

The four of them followed Hagrid to the side of the path, where Hagrid crouched in front of them, so that they were at eye level. "I know yer brother and cousin have been playin' jokes," he said to Albus, "and they borrowed my nifflers, but they brought 'em back safe and soun'. But lately the nifflers have been disappearin', and they haven't been comin' back."

"Sorry, Hagrid," said Rose, although she was wondering what made missing nifflers so important.

"I miss 'em," said Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes crinkling and filling with tears. "Cheerful little blokes, they were- always happy, always hungry, always around. Sorter boring, but tha's okay sometimes." He sniffed, then said in a choked voice, "Anyway, if any of you see 'em, lemme know. An' tell yer friends, too." He straightened up, then wandered back towards his hut.

The four of them walked back towards the Quidditch pitch, but suddenly Scorpius said, "Great, now we have to worry about missing nifflers, too."

All of them laughed; the tension had been broken momentarily. But it was only for a moment, and Rose felt in a rather dark mood as she flew that there was no way of knowing what was ahead of them.

 


	15. Happy Easter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus discovers important stuff and the four of them pay a visit to Hagrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asudhgvfhdasvd sorry

Chapter Fifteen: Happy Easter (Albus)

 

"Good news."

Albus made room for Scorpius as he sat down at the table. Norah, looking equally excited, sat down next to Rose. "Really? What is it?"

"We both got permission from our parents to stay at Hogwarts over Easter weekend," said Scorpius. "The four of us will pretty much get the whole castle to ourselves- nearly everybody goes home."

"Really? Thanks, you guys, you're the best!" said Albus happily. "I bet Professor Creevey would let you stay in the Gryffindor dorm over vacation- you can sleep in Phil's bed, he won't mind."

"Norah and I can come stay in Gryffindor, too," said Rose. "We can sleep in the common room."

"Can we not study over Easter?" said Scorpius whimsically. "We're all doing perfectly in our classes- we remember everything and we review almost constantly. How much more do we need to learn?"

"One hour a day," said Rose, "and the rest of it can be a real _vacation_."

"Shame we can't go to Hogsmeade, though," said Albus. "But this will be fun."

Easter weekend began the following day; in fact, many of the students left that very evening. Albus bid good-bye to Fred, Roxanne, Rory and Meghan Finnegan, and Frankie Longbottom, who had opted to go home for Easter. James, Victoire and Dominique were likewise stuck at the castle, as Bill, Fleur, Louis, Ginny, Lily, and Hugo had gone to France for Easter in the absence of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "They wouldn't be able to afford five more of us," said Rose sensibly, although she seemed slightly disappointed. Albus knew that she would have wanted to go to France. Harry had taken his family to Amsterdam once on an extended special case- they had stayed there for three months and Albus had learned some Dutch. Rose had been to Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, and that was as far from Dawlish hamlet, just south of Godric's Hollow, as she had ever gotten.

 They had Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday to amuse themselves. Most people returned on Monday or Tuesday. Rose, Norah, and Scorpius, and eventually also Victoire and Dominique, moved to Gryffindor common room for the holiday. Albus and James pulled their beddings down from their rooms and they formed a lovely carpeting around the fireplace where they all slept at night. Victoire had produced squashy red sleeping bags- "any other color would clash-" and they stayed up until two in the morning, just talking. Noddy was perfectly happy to bring them food from the kitchens whenever they wanted it, although they did go down to the Great Hall for meals and sit at the one table left out, where Professor Mycroft, Professor Creevey, Professor Lympsham, and Hagrid presided. Although Hagrid was still Care of Magical Creatures professor, he rarely came to meals anymore. Professor Creevey and Professor Longbottom were good friends with Hagrid, and many of the other teachers were long acquaintances of Hagrid's, but several teachers had been unkind. Albus visited Hagrid regularly enough that he heard, with anger, that Professor Lympsham had been cruel and cutting to Hagrid on more than one occasion. It was with annoyance that he sat at the small table with his brother, cousins, and friends and the other dozen-odd students who had remained at Hogwarts for the holidays and glared at Professor Lympsham as she sat there.

Albus woke on Saturday and decided that he would go for a prowl around the castle. He had his Invisibility Cloak, and although he didn't think he would need it, he tucked it into his pocket and went for a walk. It was a little past six in the morning, and he couldn't have slept longer even if he had wanted to; the nightmares had plagued him badly last night, even in the common room surrounded by friends and family.

It was eerily quiet in the castle; even though he had gone for morning walks before, there had always been a comforting background hum of noise- of a whole castle sleeping quietly, of house-elves on cleaning routines, of teachers patrolling the corridors. There were almost no students here, and as such the teachers who had remained felt no need to patrol.

He turned a corner and just as quickly darted back behind the wall. Someone had seen him, and if it was the someone he thought it was, it would bode ill for him. Footsteps approached. He yanked the Cloak from his pocket, threw it on, and tiptoed away from the wall he had been standing next to.

Professor Hale peered around the corner, a frown on his sunken face, and seeing nothing, went back to where he had been, kneeling in front of a door, examining the lock.

Albus, hardly believing his own daring, crept forwards to look at what Professor Hale was doing. He breathed shallowly with his hand over his mouth as he exhaled, stepping silently.

Was he... he was. He was picking the lock. It was an empty classroom. Albus watched, silently and curiously, as Professor Hale wiggled the picks and mumbled and muttered to himself before getting the door open. He stood up, picked up something that had been sitting next to him, and went in. Albus slipped in after him and got out of the way as Professor Hale closed the door behind him and locked it.

The thing Professor Hale had been carrying was a cage, with a black velvet cover on it. Muffled squeaks sounded, and the teacher lifted the cover.

_Ah, the missing nifflers_ , thought Albus. There were two nifflers in the cage, both young and female- Albus remembered James showing him the markings that told the difference. Their fur was a dull gold. Both of them slept, but the squeaking he had heard was snoring. Snoring, but they were unusually still besides it- knocked out, thought Albus, with a Snoring Hex laid on them? Perhaps.

He began to realize that he was alone and invisible in a small, locked classroom with a Death Eater. It then occurred to him that Marius would have gone to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and that Matthias would have gone home with Professor Hale, to avoid suspicion. They would have arrived at the London flat and found the lights turned off, Marius gone, no note. Albus wondered if Marius had told Teddy, or if the Aurors had searched the flat yet. And then, of course, what had happened to Matthias?

He looked at Professor Hale; the dark scowl on the man's face convinced him that they had found Marius, and that Matthias was in some kind of trouble. Of course, Matthias was clever. He could have gotten away safely.

Professor Hale took one of the nifflers out of the cage and laid it on the table. Instead of waking up, as an ordinary creature would have done, it flopped limply. Albus stared at the niffler, then leaned closer from the opposite side of the table and inhaled gently. It didn't smell like it was rotting- it was definitely alive, then, but unconscious, as he had thought. A gentle snore issued from the niffler; Professor Hale flicked his wand impatiently and the snoring ended. Albus smiled at his correct guess.

Professor Hale pointed his wand at the niffler, murmured something, and drew his wand in a straight line down the niffler's body. Albus clapped his hand to his mouth as the spell cleaved the unconscious niffler in two- the smell of blood filled the room, and suddenly the other niffler woke up and began a terrified squeaking. It was quickly silenced by Professor Hale.

The man reached into the pocket of his robes and took the leather-bound notebook out. He opened it, then pointed his wand at it. The pages riffled until the reached a certain spot. Professor Hale began to speak quietly.

"April fourteenth, year two thousand and eighteen. Today's experiment- involves harvesting the blood of test subject, to be tested with amulets and venom of Ziesog." Albus watched as the words appeared in glittering ink on the page, then vanished.

_Ziesog_ , thought Albus intently. _Who was Ziesog_? Or rather, remembering that Professor Hale spoke of venom, _what was Ziesog_?

Professor Hale conjured a glass bottle, then held the niffler over the bottle. The majority of the blood dripped quickly into the bottle; what missed was placed in by the wand. Not a drop of blood was wasted. He did the same thing with the other niffler, and Albus fought the urge to throw up or scream or run away- he would be caught, and it would be very dangerous if he was caught.

Then, after the table was clean and there was no trace of blood, Professor Hale vanished the poor dead nifflers and removed from his robe four golden amulets and two small vials of a clear, filmy fluid. On each amulet he dripped a few drops of the clear fluid- _Ziesog's venom_? thought Albus- and then a few drops of niffler blood. There were hissing noises, a few flashes, and a bang; but when all had become still, Professor Hale's face twisted in anger, and he slammed his fist onto the table. Albus jumped.

"Experiment a failure," said Professor Hale, and his teeth were gritted as he spoke. "In other notes, my younger brothers have vanished, and my flat has been searched. Someone knows of my long-kept secret. I suspect Matthias, because he has always been entirely too nosy- something will have to be done about him when I find him again. The Potter boy and the Weasley girl worry me also- far more intelligent than your average first-year, and also strangely observant. But nobody would believe them." He chuckled darkly. "Father, forgive me my sins- but you were like me. You were much like me, Regulus Arcturus Black. It was from you I inherited my sins, after all."

Albus, without realizing that he had been worrying about it, felt a huge feeling of relief. _He's not Sirius's son. He's not_. He had been unconsciously hoping it was Regulus, and he was right. 

_But either way_ , he thought, with a slightly sick feeling, _he's still related to me_. 

Professor Hale cleaned up, then stowed his things in his cloak, Vanished the empty cage and the velvet cover, and left the room. Albus decided to follow him. For a man who looked so ill, Professor Hale walked surprisingly fast.

He listened as the man muttered to himself- empty phrases, to Albus. "Can't start without any funding," he heard clearly, and then "why won't it work, damn it!"

They went down the stairs, and Albus, not thinking properly, went right down them. His right foot landed and he was in a trick step. Worse, it made a dull clunking noise, loud enough that Professor Hale stopped where he was and turned around.

"What on earth?" he murmured.

Albus closed his eyes as Professor Hale drew his wand, looking around. Professor Hale would find him, take the Cloak, and he would die. He was certain of it.

"Max!"

Albus's eyes opened, and he saw Professor Creevey coming up the stairs, walking with his hands in his pockets, smiling jovially.

"Thought you went home for the hols, Max. What brings you back?" asked Professor Creevey, stopping to stand by Professor Hale.

"I left some essays that I promised I would grade," said Professor Hale. "I came in about two in the morning- I'm a night owl, Dennis, and really there was no other time that would have done- I have to watch Marius and Matthias during the day."

"Good Lord, Max, do you ever sleep?" Professor Creevey laughed. "Well, I'll walk you out. Could do with a morning walk, myself. I'm getting fat on all this Hogwarts food." He laughed again. "I won't tell you that you look fat, although I will tell you that Poppy Pomfrey has been dying to get a look at you and see what's wrong."

"I'm perfectly healthy," said Professor Hale, although his smile seemed a trifle forced. "I usually lose weight in the spring- it's like I shed my fur, if you will."

Professor Creevey chuckled again, and they walked on down the stairs together. Albus, studying them, had the impression that neither of them really liked each other. It was odd, though- both of them were perfectly friendly.

As soon as he was sure that they were out of earshot, he yanked his foot out of the trick step and sprinted back up to the common room.

It was about eight, and Rose and Norah had both woken up to go use the bathrooms. Scorpius was also awake, but he was sitting and staring at the embers, burnt low and nearly out. Albus tore off the Cloak and said breathlessly, "Guess what I found out."

Scorpius jumped. "I didn't even hear you come in. You look like you've seen a ghost, Albus!"

"I have, sort of," said Albus. "It was very fortunate that I went walking today, because if I hadn't, then I would never have known what was happening to Hagrid's nifflers or what Professor Hale was doing here at seven in the morning."

Scorpius's eyes widened, and he instinctively glanced at Victoire, Dominique, and James, who were all still asleep. He stood up and murmured, "We better get dressed and eat and find out what we're doing today before you tell me, and Rose and Norah for that matter."

Albus nodded. "It's very important. I think I know somewhere we could talk about it in private, though."

He went up to his room to get dressed and take a shower; he knew that Scorpius would go down to the Slytherin common room and do the same thing. Bruna Goyle and her cronies had gone home for Easter, as had all of Scorpius's House-mates. There was no danger of a mauling. By the time Albus was done, Scorpius was sitting on the couch, fully dressed and ready for the sunny April day in his khaki pants, white shirt, and green sweater-vest.

"You must be boiling," said Albus. "Don't you have casual clothes?"

Scorpius shook his head. "My parents told me not to bother until I was allowed to go to Hogsmeade."

Albus rolled his eyes, then went up to his room and found a T-shirt that was slightly too-big for him, a hand-me-down from James. He tossed it to Scorpius, who promptly exchanged his own shirts for Albus's. It was emblazoned with the logo of the Wizarding band Toil and Trouble, James's favorite. It didn't really suit Scorpius at all, but it would be better than him boiling outside.

Rose and Norah came down, looking extremely chipper. Rose had dragged her enchanted trunk up to Gryffindor common room, so she had all of her clothes with her. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, like Albus; Norah had jeans on as well, although they were clearly work jeans, with dried mud stains on the knees, and a jacket.

"I have big news," said Albus to them quietly, as James, Victoire, and Dominique began to wake up. "Meet me by the main doors after breakfast."

They all went downstairs and ate breakfast; Albus picked at his food, trying not to think about the dead nifflers. Professor Creevey grinned at them all; Hagrid did as well, although he seemed a little downcast that two more nifflers were missing. Albus's stomach jolted when he heard that. Professor Lympsham glared at them over her coffee, clearly in a foul mood.

The four of them ate quickly and slipped out of the Great Hall; Albus led them all outside and down the path to the Quidditch pitch. They went up into the stands, and then, at Scorpius's suggestion, found the teacher tower, hung in neutral black and white, and sat there.

Albus told them about his morning walk, the dead nifflers, the leather-bound journal, the amulets, the venom, Regulus Black, Matthias and Marius, and other things. All of them listened in silence.

When he was done, Rose sighed. "Well, now Matthias is missing," she said quietly. "Thank goodness it's not his O.W.L. year."

"What do you mean?"

"He has to stay missing," said Scorpius. "He has to stay at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, or Professor Hale will find out where they both were, and why they were gone."

"But number twelve is under the Fidelius Charm, he can't find out where Marius is," said Albus.

"I would believe anything of a Death Eater." Scorpius stared moodily down at the Quidditch pitch. "I hear stories about my great-aunt Bellatrix, you know. She was absolutely loony- stark raving mad about being a Death Eater and working for Voldemort. Grandmother sometimes says that she loved him- Voldemort. The way our mums love our dads."

"That's disgusting," observed Rose. "Wasn't she married, too?"

Scorpius nodded. "The point is, Death Eaters are crazy. And new spells are invented all the time- not all of them good, either. I wouldn't trust Hale not to have invented something that could break through a Fidelius Charm. Also, his dad was Regulus. Regulus used to live at number twelve, for heaven's sake. Don't you think that Elaine Hale probably knew where the house was, and that she might have told Regulus? If so, he might be in on the Fidelius."

Albus slumped. "We should have had them go to Uncle Percy's, he lives in London."

"No, sending them to Andromeda Tonks was right," said Norah. "She can certainly take care of herself- and so can Teddy Lupin, can't he? Besides, if it gets too dangerous, they can go to Malfoy Manor or the Burrow."

"True," said Scorpius, his face brightening. "Andromeda Tonks is my other great-aunt, after all- and she's _not_ a nut job."

Albus sighed. "I'm just afraid that they're going to get hurt, and it will be our fault- my fault, because I told them to go to number twelve-"

"Our fault," said Scorpius, "because it was our idea, stupid."

The insult made Albus smile weakly; he knew that Scorpius was trying to make him feel better. It would have worked if he didn't feel so awful about it.

"The poor nifflers," said Norah after a moment. "What magical creatures make venom?"

"We should ask James," suggested Albus. "Or better yet, Hagrid."

"Do we tell Hagrid about the nifflers?"

"No," said Rose at once. "Not until this thing with Professor Hale is settled. Hagrid will just have to have more of them shipped out from Australia, or wherever it is they're from."

Albus nodded, and he realized all of them were looking at him. He was grateful that they understood, that they didn't laugh or call him crazy, that they didn't suggest writing to St. Mungo's for spells and potions to fix his problems. They listened to him, and they helped him.

They went down from the teacher tower and left the pitch. Albus spotted Hagrid walking towards his hut at the edge of the forest and changed course, running over the lawn. He could hear the others following him. 

"Well, hello there, Albus," said Hagrid. "Wha' can I do fer yeh?"

"Hagrid," said Albus seriously, "what magical creatures make venom?"

"Tha's a long list," said Hagrid. "Come on and visit with me and I'll tell yeh. I haven't met yer friend Malfoy yet." Scorpius flushed slightly. "I'll admit, at the beginnin' of the year I was sorter wary of him- din' much like yer dad, see," he added to Scorpius.

"That's all right," said Scorpius. "From what I've gathered, he was sort of a twit when he was at Hogwarts."

For a moment, Albus saw the corner's of Rose's mouth lift slightly, as though in a smirk. But it vanished. Hagrid chuckled. "Yer dad din' like me much, either," he said companionably to Scorpius. "An' he din' like Harry, Ron, or Hermione, and they were me friends, when they were here."

"I know," said Scorpius. "He's gotten a lot better since then, I think."

Hagrid nodded. "But I bin watchin' yeh lot," he said, with a little half-smile that on Hagrid merely looked lopsided, "an' I reckon since yeh're not enemies, yeh mus' be friends. An' I wonder how the kids o' Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy got to be friends- sorter doesn' fit wi' what I know of yer parents."

Albus laughed. "It's an interesting story," he said to Hagrid, "but the thing about magical creatures with venom is sort of urgent."

"Oh, all righ'," said Hagrid. "Lemme see... with ordin'ry things yeh have snakes of all kin's, billywigs, puffskeins, doxies, cockatrices, kappas, some kin's o' dragons, basilisks, acromantulas... tha's about it, I think."

"Do any of those things live around here?" asked Rose.

They went into the hut and took seats on the kitchen chairs. Hagrid took the oak rocking chair by the fire and Rose and Norah sat on the neatly-made bed. They could hear Grawp in his crude backyard hut, about fifty feet into the forest. Grawp had been tacitly overlooked after the Battle of Hogwarts; Harry had told Albus once that he had figured it was the Ministry's way of saying "Thank you" to Hagrid and Grawp for all the help they had provided in fighting.

Hagrid lifted the kettle off the fireplace; Albus thought he hadn't heard Rose's question, but as he opened his mouth to ask again, Hagrid said suddenly, "Yeh're all too young fer Care o' Magical Creatures, arencha?"

Albus looked away, but suddenly Norah, of all people said, "Yes, but we're doing some research for a Potions essay- Professor Lympsham mentioned that we would have one on various types of natural venoms after Easter break."

"Not a very nice lady, her," murmured Hagrid. "Reminds me o' Snape- but they tell me he was good in the end."

"I think she's more like Umbridge," said Albus, remembering the horror stories Harry and Ginny had told him and his siblings about Dolores Umbridge. "But anyway, do any of those poisonous creatures live around here?"

"If yeh promise yeh won't go lookin' fer 'em, sure," said Hagrid affably. "There was a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets a while back- bet all the bones have rotted out though, 'cep' mebbe the fangs. Puffskeins like dark, dry places- attics and cupboards, yeh could probably find a few. Coupla kin's of snakes in the woods- doxie nests in some places. I had a dragon a few years back- 'course, had ter send little Norbert- Norberta- back ter Romania with yer uncle Charlie." For a moment, tears filled Hagrid's eyes, but he wiped them roughly away and poured the tea and passed around a plate of rock cakes. Albus took one to be polite, though he knew from experience that they were more or less inedible.

"Anything else?" said Rose.

"Well, there's the acromantulas, but they're an unfriendly lot," said Hagrid. "Really unfriendly- soon as eat yer as look at yer. And that ungrateful ter me, fer all I helped them find a home back there." He sounded a little annoyed.

"Did you name them?" asked Albus, thinking of the mysterious Ziesog.

"Well, no," said Hagrid. "I usually name them- but Aragog tol' me he already had a name. I was callin' him Spidey, until he could talk, and then he tol' me one day, in a little, whispery voice, tha' his name were Aragog. And I found him a wife, Mosag, and they made a lot o' little baby acromantulas- I wanted one to raise like I did Fang, but they never let me have one. And then the babies grew up and had babies, and so on- but Aragog's dead now, and so's Mosag, and I ferget who the leader is now- some Mog or Shog or Tog- all the acromantulas name their kids the same. No, wait, I remember. Ziesog." Albus glanced at Scorpius, Rose, and Norah with wide eyes, and they stared back at him, with the same wide eyes, but Hagrid continued, not noticing. "Firs' time I go back after Aragog dies, Ziesog orders them all to attack me. Lucky I had me umbrella- that and the wild Ford Anglia runnin' loose in the woods, hit about fifty of 'em and sailed off a ravine. Then he sez, Ziesog does, tha' Aragog only let me live ever 'cos he thought he owed me for raisin' him up, and he made all the little spiders do the same. So I go pretty quick, and I've never been back until the Battle of Hogwarts a year later, and then all the spiders had gone off to Hogwarts lookin' fer food, 'cept the ones that carried me. But after that I never went back." He was silent for a long moment, and Albus remembered what had happened when Hagrid was taken back to the Spider Hollow during the Battle of Hogwarts. That was near to where his father had died, and where he had been born new again in the same body, where Narcissa Malfoy had pronounced him dead in exchange for the information that her son was alive.

But Hagrid had said Ziesog. Ziesog- the acromantula. Acromantula venom and niffler blood. What was Professor Hale after?

"Does acromantula venom have any special powers?" asked Albus.

"Eh, not that I remember," said Hagrid. "Although it's poisonous- probably kill kids as small as you." He smiled his crinkly Hagrid smile, the one with more grey around it than Albus remembered. "But it's a few miles into the forest- they know better than to try and come lookin' fer humans. They live off the deer and rabbits, sometimes a centaur when it wanders too far from the others."

"Also," said Rose suddenly, "we were wondering about nifflers, because you had mentioned they had been stolen."

"Yeah," said Hagrid heavily. "What about 'em?"

"Nifflers find gold, right?" she said briskly. "What helps them do that?"

"Well, it's their noses, I reckon," said Hagrid. "Sniff gold right outta the ground, like. An' they have good digging claws, too. But some o' the blokes over in the Department fer the Regulation an' Control o' Magical Creatures, they say it's in the niffler's blood- you drink niffler blood, or use it in a potion, it helps people find gold."

Albus frowned in thought. Finding gold and killing people- certainly those were things a Death Eater would do.

"'Course, that's just sick," said Hagrid. "It's like the evil folk who try to drink unicorn blood, 'cause o' the healing in it, or the phoenix harvesters in Saudi Arabia who milk them fer the tears. How could anybody hurt a niffler? Cute little thing, wouldn't hurt nobody." He sounded sad, and Albus felt guilty that they couldn't tell him who was taking the nifflers.

As they walked back to the castle, none of them glancing back to look at the Forbidden Forest but all of them thinking about it, Rose said abruptly, "There's one thing I don't get."

"What's that?" said Albus.

"How does Professor Hale get the venom from Ziesog if Ziesog doesn't like humans?"

"Maybe Ziesog's granted him an exception," suggested Scorpius.

"There's probably a bribe in it," said Norah thoughtfully. "Maybe in exchange for venom..." she trailed off, her face paling suddenly.

"What?"

"Well, it would certainly explain Professor Hale's increasingly unhealthy appearance," murmured Norah. "If every time he went to the Forest to retrieve venom, perhaps he... donated... some blood to Ziesog."

"Ugh!" said Albus, recoiling.

"I mean, wizards and Muggles do it all the time," said Rose. "Transfusions- they run other people's blood through you if you've lost a lot of yours. With Muggles it's a bunch of needles and tubes and things, but we use a Blood-Replenishing Spell, and it has to come from somewhere."

"That's disgusting," said Scorpius, "but it would explain why he looks less like a person and more like a wax statue whenever we see him."

Albus shook his head. It was almost certainly fit all the facts.

"But what could he want with the niffler blood and acromantula venom? What's so important to him that's worth giving up his own _blood_ for?" continued Scorpius. "I mean... that just makes no sense whatsoever."

"What do Death Eaters want?" mused Rose.

"I could write home," said Scorpius dryly.

"Oh, don't be a twit. I mean in general." Rose rolled her eyes.

"Well, when Voldemort was around, they were after purity of blood," said Norah cautiously.

"Yeah, but that was a front for Voldemort," said Albus thoughtfully. "He used them- used every one of them, as a layer of protection. He was a half-blood, anyway. But what Voldemort really wanted was to figure out how to live forever."

"He was after immortality?" said Scorpius, frowning.

Albus nodded. "He tried it with the Sorcerer's Stone, Dad's first year. But what he really wanted were the Horcruxes. You can't die if your soul's split."

"But Professor Hale doesn't want to split his soul, or there would be some people murdered," said Rose. "He wants something else. What would a Death Eater these days want?"

"To be left alone," murmured Scorpius.

"To have revenge," said Norah softly.

They were silent for a moment.

"Any Death Eater, the Malfoys excepted, would want to be after the people who turned their lives from controlling to being controlled," said Rose. "Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger. Neville Longbottom. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur and Molly Weasley- frankly, all the Weasleys. Some would even be after the Malfoys. Everyone who was in the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore's Army."

"How would he get revenge?"

"Personally, if someone hurt me and my family, I would get revenge the same way," said Scorpius, and there was a cool, unattached tone to his voice that made Albus feel strangely chilly in the warm April morning. "I would hurt them and their families."

"Professor Hale mentioned Rose and I, when he was talking to his journal," said Albus. "He also mentioned Matthias and Marius- what are we going to do about them?"

"They'll have to take care of themselves," said Rose, a steely decisiveness in her face. "Our parents figured it out. Matthias and Marius are smart. They can figure it out, too. No, our problem is here."

There was another long silence.

"We're going to have to do something," said Albus. They stopped in front of the main doors, and he turned to look at them. He could see how helpless they all felt, how frustrated they were, how they wanted to help him. "Problem is, I have no idea what."


	16. Secrets and Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which... oh, heck, just read it. I don't even know what I was thinking at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look OH LOOK STUFF

Chapter Sixteen: Secrets and Spiders (Rose, Albus, Norah, Scorpius)

 

Rose woke up on Sunday morning of Easter break before everyone else, even Albus; this was new, as these days, Albus seemed to never sleep. They would all wake up and Albus would be fully dressed and sitting on the sofa near the fireplace, just waiting- waiting for them to wake up. He was like that, thought Rose, preferring his moments of solitude every now and then. She didn't mind that- she needed those moments, too.

She sat up where she had been sleeping and she thought about what was going to happen, and she thought about the two things that scared her most in the world, things that had been brought down to her from her parents: failing classes was her primary fear, although she had been conquering that one since Muggle primary school and it was a rather dormant fear, at that. Her other fear was spiders, and she really, really did not like them. She chopped up bits of spiders for Potions without a qualm; they were dead and much less harmful. But she did not like live spiders, and she knew that she was not the only one- Hugo did not like them either, and her father's favorite spell for spiders was a Vanishing Spell. Rose sometimes wondered if more spiders had been whisked into nonbeing by her father than any other type of animal, ever; and she had heard all of the stories about Aragog and the giant spiders in the hollow in the woods.

But all the talk of acromantula venom yesterday had put her on edge. She did not like the idea of going into the Forbidden Forest and facing down a Death Eater who cooperated with giant, carnivorous spiders. She shuddered, then decided to go down to the Great Hall early and get a mug of hot chocolate to drink before she really got up and got dressed.

She prowled silently through the halls. No wonder Albus went on so many walks alone in the morning- the quiet was delightful, a friend who would always listen to you and yet never required anything in return.

"Miss Weasley."

Rose turned around and had to stop herself from drawing her wand or running. Professor Hale glided towards her.

"Hello, Professor," she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded. The thin, nearly skeletal man joined her.

"Where are you headed to so early in the morning?"

"I was just going to ask the kitchen elves for a mug of hot chocolate," said Rose truthfully.

"Does your cousin often wander the halls, too?" inquired Professor Hale.

 _Lie_ , said the little voice in her head that since she had met Matthias Hale had begun to sound very much like him. _Lie or he'll suspect Albus. You have to protect Albus._

"Occasionally," she said lightly. "He's a night owl, Albus- but usually he takes his walks in the morning. He likes to go outside."

"You knew I meant Albus," said Professor Hale, "when you have, I believe, six other cousins at this school."

Rose's mouth went dry. "Well, usually people mean Albus when they talk to me," she said quickly. "We're best friends, and we hang about with each other a lot."

"And Miss Longbottom and Mr. Malfoy," mused Professor Hale. "Strange, that the four of you, children of war heroes and a turncoat, should all be friends."

"I suppose it is rather strange, Professor," said Rose cautiously, "but it's no stranger than other things that have happened in this castle." She decided to ignore the slur on Scorpius's father; it would make sense for him to think little of Draco Malfoy, if he was a former Death Eater, and she didn't want him to get angry if she confronted him about it, anyway.

He stopped and looked at her, frowning, and the frown drew his eyebrows in so that he was glaring at her, almost. Rose shrank a little bit. _He gave his blood to spiders_.

"Hmmm," he said after a moment.

They continued to walk, and Rose, hoping to withdraw him from the idea of strangeness, asked, "How are Matthias and Marius?"

Professor Hale glanced at her sharply, and Rose held the innocent expression on her face until he looked away. "They're doing all right," he said, and the lie was almost as good as hers but not quite, because Rose could see a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth, one that made her want to punch him the face and then hex him until he stopped breathing.

"How do you know Marius?" Professor Hale said eventually.

"Matthias mentioned him," said Rose.

"That's right, the two of you are friends." Professor Hale shook his head. "I never know quite what to say to him. He's always on a different page, so to speak." He stopped speaking abruptly and then, after a pause, began to speak again, in a low, sleepy tone.

"Of course, Matthias took the step to befriend you, obviously. Girls try to make friends with my brother but they do not succeed unless they are sufficiently interesting enough for him. Those that are interesting usually do not seek him out, such as you. He sought you out. He wanted to be your friend. That speaks volumes about you, Rose Weasley- and makes me wonder about that one time when he went into my office and broke the alarms, if you were not just as much in on the idea as he was."

Rose yawned; she knew she ought to be frightened, or some such thing, but she was actually quite sleepy.

"And of course I see your cousin's face in my private chambers, all the time. It's quite annoying; I barely get the chance to say hello and off he pops like a burst balloon. Seeing me- having visions, like his _father_ -"

And that snarled word did not even wake Rose's mind up; she was listening to him tell her a pretty story, one that melted through her ears with that warm, compelling, sleepy voice.

"-and what did you find there? Of course, I know; you sat with your cousin in the hallway, and you found out that I have the true surname of Black. You might not know who my father was, but I think your cousin does. He has an Invisibility Cloak, doesn't he?"

And with a question, one that Rose was meant to answer, which woke up her well-trained, question-answering mind, she realized what was happening, and she began to run, but she had not gotten three steps before a clawlike hand seized her. Rose screamed for half a second; then her screams made no noise. She kicked and struggled, but Professor Hale, for all his lost blood, was strong, in a wraithlike way, and suddenly she knew nothing except for darkness.

 

Albus woke suddenly, and for a moment he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. No, that had not been real. He would not think about it. It had not been real.

But he opened his eyes and he looked at Rose's empty sleeping bag and blinked for a few seconds, then closed them again and for the first time in his life he prayed, because if God existed, then Albus needed him right now. And if he didn't, Merlin might not be able to help, either.

"Norah. Scorpius." He spoke in a low voice.

Norah yawned and sat up. Scorpius lifted his head from where he had been laying on his stomach.

"Rose is gone."

"Are you sure she didn't just go to use the shower?" said Norah dubiously, but there was a little worry in her voice.

"I just now had a dream," said Albus, "woke up from it in fact, and Hale has Rose. He drugged her. I don't know where they are, but I know he has her."

Norah scrambled to her feet and said, "We have to go look for her."

"If he really has her, then he won't be in the castle," said Scorpius. "He probably won't even be on the grounds."

Albus glanced around the room desperately, then spotted Rose's trunk. He went to it, tapped the lock, and murmured, " _Alohomora_."

Nothing happened.

He tried again. " _Magiclavicus_."

The lock clicked, and the lid popped up a little bit. Albus peered down into the trunk, then placed his hands on the sides and swung himself into the trunk.

He landed in a cozy, well-furnished room. He wondered when Rose had fixed it all up- there was a large, comfortable sofa, a bookshelf with tons of textbooks on it, a cauldron half-full of her mild Sleeping Potion, a desk with her homework and notes laid out neatly on it, and a closet- a walk-in closet, nonetheless, with all of her clothes. He looked around and noted that the only thing missing was Rose herself, and her wand.

He clambered up the ladder and poked his head out of the trunk. "She's not in there," he said.

"Is there a way to find her?" said Norah.

Albus considered, then pulled himself completely from the trunk. He went up to his room and rummaged through his things for a few minutes; when he found the small green notebook with Aunt Hermione's spells, he hurried back downstairs to Norah and Scorpius, flipping through the pages.

"Muffliato, no... bluebell flames, no... oh, here it is." He smoothed the page down and studied the spell. "The Four-Point Spell."

"You mentioned that one before, it only points north," said Scorpius impatiently.

"Yeah, but Aunt Hermione tweaked it a little bit for the notebook." Albus studied his aunt's tiny, graceful handwriting, then said, "We need a hair of Rose's, or a fingernail, or something."

"Hair should do," said Norah, "as she has plenty of it and she complains about shedding it all the time." She went to Rose's empty sleeping bag and picked at it for a few moments; then came back with several long red hairs. Albus twisted the hairs together and tied them around the end of his wand, then allowed it to lie flat on his palm and said firmly, " _Point Me_."

The wand shook a little bit; then began to spin in a ferocious circle, then stopped, quivering, the tip with Rose's hair pointing mostly south but slightly southeast.

Albus went to the window in that direction, and when he got there, the wand quivered again, and as he saw the expanses of the Forbidden Forest looming before him, he could see two figures vanishing into the woods: a tall, skeletal one and a short, slender one, both hooded and cloaked. The small one seemed to be bouncing, and the taller one walked quickly with his wand out.

"The forest?" said Norah, her voice quavering. "But we're not allowed in."

Albus shook his head. "There's no time for rules. We have to go now."

He looked back at Norah and Scorpius. Both of them were wearing pajamas; Norah's hair was untidy and she shivered, barefoot and with only a tank top and shorts. Scorpius was also barefoot. Albus glanced around and spotted James's shoes, sitting neatly at the end of James's sleeping bag. He handed them to Scorpius and stole Dominique's shoes for Norah, then slipped his own shoes on.

"How are we going to get her back?" said Scorpius. "And what if he hurts her?"

Panic was beginning to set in, but Albus ignored it. His mind was racing. He could feel the panic that Norah and Scorpius were feeling, but he ignored that also, pushing everything away except for two absolutes: _We have to save Rose. We have to stop Hale._

"We need the Invisibility Cloak," he said, closing his eyes. "And the Marauder's Map."

"The Cloak is easy," said Scorpius, "as you have it. How do we get the Map?"

_Think, Albus, think. How do you steal something from James?_

"Come on, Norah," he said resolutely, opening his eyes. "Scorpius, you stay down here. If Victoire or Dominique or especially James wakes up, tell them that we, and Rose, went down to breakfast already."

"Got it."

Albus led Norah up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. He knew that Norah was allowed in the boy's dormitories, even though the boys were not permitted to enter the girls's dormitories. They stopped in his room while he grabbed the Cloak, and pulled it over both of them. They crept up to the floor above Albus's room, which was where James and the second-year Gryffindor boys resided. Albus jiggled the handle; it was unlocked. He opened the door, peered in, and pulled Norah in after him.

Nobody was there, as they had all gone home for Easter. Albus glanced around the room; he had only been in James's room once, to borrow a quill, and James had merely tossed him the one he had been using. But he had been sitting in the window. Albus had no idea which bed and trunk were James'

Fortunately, he thought, looking about him, only one of the beds could be James's bed. It was covered in the standard red-silk duvet of Gryffindor Tower, but it was a mess, as was the desk next to it, while the rest of James's roommates were relatively neat. Albus knew from living with James that places James lived were generally disaster zones. The Nimbus Two Thousand And Nine hanging from a rack attached to the bedpost (probably with a Permanent Sticking Charm, knowing James) was carefully polished and pristine.

Footsteps flew up the stairs, and Norah, just in time, grabbed Albus and pulled him over to the side of James's bed opposite his trunk. They stood there, huddled under the Cloak, breathing silently, as James bounced in.

James went through his trunk, but he only grabbed some things for the shower and disappeared into the bathroom. As the door clicked closed, Albus threw off the Cloak and began rummaging through James's things. Norah stood still and waited for him; Albus was grateful for this. She wouldn't have been a help searching through James's things.

"How often does he use it?" asked Norah quietly.

"Fairly often," said Albus. "He goes down to the kitchens after curfew to get an ice-cream sundae at least once a week." He spotted a scrap of parchment under a textbook and lifted the book. A blank, oddly folded piece of parchment lay there; Albus tapped it and murmured, " _I solemnly swear I am up to no good._ " Oddly enough, he thought to himself, he was up to a lot of good, though it might have been an unorthodox sort of good.

The ink spiraled outwards; that was good enough for Albus, and he grabbed the Cloak and he and Norah crept downstairs under it.

Scorpius was sitting by the fire, pretending to read a book. Victoire and Dominique were walking up the stairs towards them, probably to use Frankie's or Meghan's shower, and Albus and Norah avoided them and went towards Scorpius, who set down his book when they were three feet away, still under the Cloak.

"How did you know?" said Albus.

"There's a sort of general presence to you," said Scorpius, "which I can sense even if I can't see. Have you got it?"

"Yeah," said Albus, "but we need one more thing."

"What?" said Norah and Scorpius in unison.

"Peruvian Darkness Powder." Albus had been formulating his plan. "This is what we do. Norah, you carry all the powder. Scorpius, you carry the map and your wand, because you're the best with offensive spells and we need that. I'll have the Cloak, even though we'll all be under it. We go in, we find them, we walk under the Cloak to where Rose is, we take off the Cloak, Norah throws the powder at Hale and anything else that might be there, we put Rose under the Cloak, we get out of there under the Cloak, and once we're free we run as fast as we can."

"What if Rose is incapacitated?" said Scorpius calmly.

Albus turned to look at him, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, that sounded so... cynical." Scorpius looked away. "If that happens, I'll carry her. I'm the only one tall enough to, without dragging her on the ground. But we'll be slower, so we'll need to Cloak. You two would have to run as a distraction."

Albus nodded. "That's a better plan," he said. "Think we can be a distraction, Norah?"

"I trip sometimes," said Norah worriedly, but she tossed her unkempt hair and added firmly, "But I can do it for Rose."

"For Rose," echoed Albus.

Scorpius nodded. "For Rose."

And then they raced out of Gryffindor Tower.

 

Norah was having a rather bad time of it. She carried Albus's whole stock of Peruvian Darkness Powder, and a lot of James's as well, in a sack. She had her wand in the other hand, ready to jinx something if she had to.

But the forest was _creepy_ \- she remembered an awful story her father had told her, about his first year when he had done a detention in the woods with Draco Malfoy and he had scared him nearly to death. Scorpius would never do that- it had been made quite clear over the eight months they had all known one another that Scorpius was not at all like his father- but the idea of walking through the Forbidden Forest, even in broad daylight, was intimidating. Norah had spent all of the summers she could remember in London, usually on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron, where her father had half of the roof for a greenhouse, and she had half of of the roof for a secret hideaway where she read books and ate Florean Fortescue's ice cream sundaes and sat and and dreamed. She was a city girl- she loved London. And she loved Hogwarts, too, with all its wildness and stark beauty, but she was no outdoorswoman.

She swallowed her own fears, though- _be brave like Dad,_ she told herself firmly- and continued to walk forwards under the Cloak with Albus and Scorpius. Albus still held his wand with Rose's hair knotted around it; he looked as though he hadn't slept for _days_ , poor dear, and he had this wild, haunted look in his eyes that told Norah that he was not all right, no matter how many times he insisted otherwise. She knew that Scorpius and Rose both knew that Albus was not exactly healthy with his nightmares and worrying about Professor Hale, but once they had gotten Rose they could rest. Scorpius looked as though he could run a marathon, on the other hand- and Norah was sure he could, in this case. He walked as slowly as Albus would let them though- conserving energy, decided Norah, so that he could have plenty if he had to carry Rose back.

They continued through the forest. Norah stumbled over a thick, tricky little root and nearly fell, but she caught Albus's arm in time and Scorpius grabbed her other hand, and they managed to avoid a tangled mess of Cloak and people. After that, Norah tried to worry less and watch the ground more. She also looked up every now and then.

They were following Albus's wand; passing through a deep hollow in the woods where it seemed that a few centaurs had settled. Some of them glanced around as the three of them shuffled forwards under the Cloak, but none of them said anything. Norah was awed; she had never seen a centaur before, as centaurs didn't often come to London. She nearly tripped again, after looking around, but she caught herself just in time.

"Careful," said Scorpius, and his tone bordered on unkind, although it still carried that flavor of Scorpius neutral, extra-special.

"It's not her fault," said Albus automatically, and they both shut up, because they could hear the suffering in his voice and they would neither of them give him any more to deal with.

After the centaur hollow they watched other beasts who lived during the day; a few bowtruckles chattered gaily. Scorpius nearly stepped on a snake, but pulled his foot away. Albus stumbled over a few pebbles. One particularly shiny one caught Norah's eye- it looked like obsidian, and what was obsidian, a volcanic rock, doing in the nonvolcanic mountains of Hogwarts? But they had no time, and Norah didn't think about it again.

Eventually they began to head downhill, the wand still pointing straight forwards, and Norah wondered if Scorpius would be able to carry Rose up the hill, because it was quite steep. She glanced around briefly as they reached the bottom of a drop-off, which they had managed to get to by edging along a ridgy path downwards.

And then Norah saw the spiders.

She let out a tiny gasp, immediately clapping her hand to her mouth. Albus and Scorpius looked at her, and she pointed at the hundreds, no, _thousands_ of tiny spiders that walked in a line before them, scuttling towards the darkest section of the woods.

"Follow the spiders," said Albus, and then he laughed a little grimly, as though at a grisly joke.

"Shhh," said Scorpius, "we're probably very close."

They followed the spiders, and as they did it was all Norah could do not to scream. The spiders grew bigger in size as they traveled deeper into the woods. They got to one tree that had quite a few spiders, each the size of a small bird; the next tree had a few less spiders, each the size of a dinner plate. The next tree had spiders the size of dogs, and then the next tree had no spiders, just giant webs hanging from tree to tree, and spiders as tall as they were crouched in the center of them.

They were all silent now, moving as slowly as they could. Many of the smaller spiders they were following had been eaten by larger spiders at this point, and they had to move carefully to avoid stepping on some of the larger ones. Albus discovered this fact first; he stepped on one about the size of the average tarantula, and when his foot came up several of the dinner-plate spiders came scuttling forwards to eat their smaller fellow. After that, none of them stepped on any spiders.

Norah was past screaming at this point; as disgusting and terrifying as the spiders were, Rose was more important, far more important, than any fears she could have. An odd smell, like fetid meat, began to rise, and suddenly the path lined by large spiders and webs opened into a clearing.

She heard Albus and Scorpius take deep breaths suddenly, and they nearly stopped moving, but after a slight pause all of them began to creep towards the scene before them.

 

Scorpius did not like spiders, although he did not dislike them either. They were an occasional part of life, albeit one tinged with unpleasantness. This general nonopinion of spiders that he entertained about a great deal of things in his life vanished very promptly as they arrived in the Spider Hollow; when they had passed some of the largest spiders he had ever seen, he saw the one that made him want to turn tail and run. He was not altogether sure that he would not have turned tail and run if it had not been for the red-haired girl who they had worked so hard to find, who lay prone and pale on the forest floor before them.

Hale stood before the giant spider, talking in a fairly loud voice. Scorpius was not concerned about him. He was worried about Rose. He pulled Albus and Norah forwards- Rose lay right under the fangs of the creature. It had built a web over a large hole, and Rose was perilously close to the edge of that hole.

"We can get her," he murmured to them.

Albus nodded. Scorpius, as an afterthought, pointed his wand at Norah and murmured, " _Aggrazirapidus_ ," which he had picked up from Bruna Goyle, of all people, when he had been running in the dungeon halls from her in late October. It showed no immediate effect, but he knew that it would enable her to run faster and without tripping. As a second thought, he cast the same spell on Albus and then on himself.

They crept forwards, under the cloak; it was strange that neither the giant spider nor Hale had yet noticed their presence.

"And I told you, Ziesog, that if I gave you a human, I would be provided with a full sample from you or one of the larger spiders," said Hale crossly.

"And I rarely make deals with humans." Ziesog's voice was quiet, almost so quiet that one could not hear it under the rustling. "My father was nearly sixty-eight years old when he died. He told me of the human Tom Riddle, who was the first to discover us besides the oaf, Hagrid. You will forgive me, I think, for not thinking too highly of you if it is truly him you work for."

" _Riddle_ ," spat Hale, as though it were a disease. "Once I thought him a god. I bear his mark, and I practice many of his beliefs. Yet I do not work for him- or against him, even. Riddle is dead, and it is I who intends to make this deal with you. You promised, Ziesog, and I hold you to that promise."

Scorpius glanced at Hale, as they moved carefully under the clicking pincers of the giant spider. They were too close; much too close; but Rose was too close, too, and she was beginning to come to. Her eyelids had barely fluttered open when suddenly a whispered spell from Albus sent her back to sleep. Scorpius glanced at him, and Albus mouthed, "She really, really hates spiders."

"Did you hear something?" said Hale suddenly.

All of them froze.

"I hear several somethings," said Ziesog, and his voice had a note of chill amusement. "I have known for some time now that three younglings like the one you have brought me have been walking unseen in the forest towards us, wearing a robe of clever light and color, that changes with the scenery. They huddle under my jaw now, which is a rather dangerous place to hide, if you ask me. The spiders whisper this to me."

Before any of them could move, Hale had flicked his wand out, saying, " _Immobilus_." They all froze, and Scorpius began to go through every curse word he knew in his head, since he could not say them aloud. Hale strode forwards, holding his hand out as though to touch something; suddenly, something warm and spiny shoved them forwards, and Scorpius's frozen body fell and toppled Norah and Albus like dominoes. Their feet stuck in the air.

"I should have known," said Hale, his teeth gritted. "The Potter boy- the Longbottom girl- the Malfoy boy. All four of them, always hanging about." His eyes, blue-grey and cold as ice, rested on Scorpius for a moment. "I had such hopes for this one- an excellent student, and what a name to add to the ranks of the Death Eaters." He smirked at them, and Scorpius made sure to shoot all the hate he could through his eyes, forced to rest on Hale in his frozen state. It was enough to make Hale step backwards. Scorpius had a lot of hate to dish out.

"Do you fear them, that you make them still with your tricks and charms?" said Ziesog, and Scorpius would have laughed if he could have; the acromantula saw Hale as an inferior, and they could use that.

"Hardly," said Hale dismissively. "Their parents are another thing. Fortunately, my dragon breeder friends in Wales are giving _them_ all they can handle." He waved his wands at Albus, Norah, and Scorpius, who found that they could move their heads and speak.

"You filthy bloody paragon, let us go!" shouted Albus.

"You've meddled enough in my affairs," said Hale severely. "I ought to kill you all right now- all four of you. Matthias in my office, you were there, and creeping about in the mornings."

"I dreamed your face," said Albus, and his voice was like nothing Scorpius had ever heard. "I dreamed your face in a thousand dreams, and it grew thinner and colder every time, and there's nothing left in you but greed, greed and vanity, and if you kill me, or my friends, we will haunt your dreams for the rest of your life."

There was a long pause, and then Hale said, "Ah, but I don't plan to kill you. That will be the job of Ziesog and his fellow spiders. Once I have the venom I will obtain from them, in exchange for you, I will leave, and you will be torn to pieces by the hungry jaws of a thousand spiders."

"You're a monster," said Norah, and her voice was the angriest Scorpius had ever heard it, and there were tears in her voice, and he couldn't stand any of it, and Rose was unconscious, thank goodness, because she would be asleep as their lives ended. For a moment he thought of growing up into an adult and marrying Rose, and then the image faded away as the spiders began to climb into the trees, waiting to feast.

"I am not a monster," said Hale. "I am a genius. And the funny thing is, none of you will live to know why."

"Tell us why," said Albus. "I demand it."

"Tell me how you knew my name," said Hale.

"You're Regulus's son," shouted Albus, "and thank God you're not Sirius's, because even though Regulus was good at the very last, when it counted, Sirius was good all the way through, and you don't even have that little bit of goodness in you."

Hale frowned, and Scorpius suddenly saw a way out. The older man turned to Ziesog. "Humor me," he said quickly, "just for a moment, while I ask what this boy knows of my heritage. I believe he may have an answer to a question I've had for a while."

"Very well," said Ziesog, "but be quick. My children are hungry." A clicking and hissing all around them testified to that.

"Potter, tell me how you know my father died," said Hale.

"I will," said Albus, and then he hesitated. "You have to let Rose and Norah go. Sorry, Scorpius," he added. "But Rose and Norah have to go free. Then I'll tell you."

There was a pause, and then Hale said quietly, "I cannot. Rose has been promised for Ziesog's meal, and the rest of you are as good as promised."

"Then-" Albus hesitated. "Just Scorpius. Just Scorpius, and I'll tell you."

"Release Malfoy, and not your own cousin?" Hale snorted. "As little family loyalty as I have. Very well." He flicked his wand at Scorpius, and Scorpius relaxed as the Freezing Charm wore off. He scrambled to his feet and ran, not knowing how he would save Albus, Rose, and Norah, but knowing that he had to- he had to, he had to, he had to, he had to, _he had to, he had to, he had to_ -

 

"...how did my father die?"

"He died with honor. Voldemort had the Horcruxes, and he needed a house-elf to test one. He chose the family elf of your father's family, named Kreacher. Kreacher loved your father, as he loved no one else but my father, and he went with Voldemort to serve. Voldemort abused him cruelly and left him for dead, and he only survived with the barest thread of sanity left because your father called him, called him with house-elf magic that transcended boundaries. And then, Hale, do you know what he did? He went and stole a part of Voldemort's soul, and suffered death by the Inferi because of it."

There was a long silence, in which Rose realized simultaneously and furiously that Albus had put her back to sleep with the spell, but it had worn off rather quickly, probably because he had been afraid or distracted when he had cast it. She also realized that she was in a large forest hollow full of _spiders_ \- _spiders,_ the size of horses, and one large one who she was right under, as big and bigger than Hagrid's hut. Ziesog, or some such thing. And that was Albus speaking- and that was Norah next to her- and Scorpius was nowhere to be found, and if she had been wrong about him being worth something, she was going to be very angry.

She felt in her pocket, the pocket she had placed her Undetectable Extension Charm on, and found her wand. She drew it slowly and silently, with movements so slow that one would think that she only shifted in a drugged sleep. Hale. She would kill Hale. But then the spiders would kill all of them. She would make Albus and Norah able to move.

Then she glanced upwards again and saw Ziesog's fangs, dripping with venom, and she didn't even think. She just poked her wand slightly upwards and whispered, " _Bardentus._ " The fangs shrank back into the spider's skull and were replaced by rather flat, unimpressive teeth. Rose stowed her wand in her sleeve quickly and pretended she was still asleep, then did a rather convincing flop of unconsciousness, as Albus continued to speak to Hale, and pointed her wand arm at Norah.

" _Mobilius_."

Norah glanced at her, and her eyes widened, but Rose shook her head, no, don't say anything. She glanced around, trying not to throw up at all the _spiders, oh, God, they were everywhere_...

"Tell me one thing, before you kill me," said Albus to Hale.

"I'll humor you," chuckled Hale.

"Who are Matthias's and Marius's fathers?"

Hale laughed, long and hard. "Those wretches were barely worthy to be called wizards," he sneered. "And my mother was partially insane, you know- she had a great deal of visits to St. Mungo's before she died. But she stayed a period of time in a long-term ward for the permanently damaged, and she sort of struck up a romance with one fellow- used to be quite the charmer, as I recall him. Taught at Hogwarts. I was about thirteen at the time. Nine months later she had Matthias."

"You don't mean Gilderoy Lockhart?" said Albus, sounding more fascinated than terrified.

"That's the fellow. I've no idea how he managed to get my mother pregnant- fellow can barely remember his own name. He's dead now, I think, or perhaps just still as crazy as ever. Marius's father, on the other hand... well..." He trailed away delicately. "I think we'll save the truth about him for another time."

"In case you haven't noticed, we don't have another time," said Albus pleasantly. "You ought to give us closure before we die- otherwise, I'll choose to die as a ghost and haunt you until you tell me."

It was not an idle threat, Rose knew. She felt that she ought to have known that Matthias was the son of cracked-up, crazy Gilderoy Lockhart- they both had impeccable good opinions of themselves, sane or not. And she wasn't entirely sure Matthias was sane, either. But she knew that Albus meant every word he said about haunting, and she knew that Hale knew that he meant it. Albus had never said anything he didn't really mean, unless it was in a joking tone. And Albus's tone was not a joking one.

"Marius's father was nothing like him," said Hale dismissively. "Marius is better than him, at least- although the man isn't much of a father. Stealing, lying, lazy, only working to save his own skin. Treacherous scum, though I'm told he's got an eye for a bargain. Mundungus Fletcher- took advantage of my poor mother on a night when he was drunk out of his wits and looking for a place to stay. He robbed her of the little sanity she had left- while she was pregnant with Marius she tried to hang herself twice, and would have succeeded had it not been for me. Marius inherited nothing from his father but a sense of obligation to the morals with which he was raised- with which I raised him. I gave him a conscience as clear as yours, Potter."

"You're wrong about Marius," said Albus. "He wrote Matthias, when he saw the Dark Mark on your arm- we advised Matthias to send Marius someplace safe, and to go there himself when he could. He's a clever, resourceful chap. Just like Matthias, and just like you. But they both have something you don't- a conscience. You'll leave here and you'll have three lives on your conscience, Maximilian Hale. That's not as many as Voldemort had, but it's still far more than any one person should have."

"Well, I don't expect you to understand what it is I am about," said Hale loftily. "I would tell you, but it would be pointless, and I think that my friends the spiders grow impatient."

Rose had refrained from speaking thus far; abruptly she sat up and said, "You're exactly like a spider, Hale. Clever and crooked, and brutal, spinning a web of lies and sacrificing others to keep yourself powerful."

"Good morning, Miss Weasley, and thank you for being a such a good friend that you led the rest of them here to find me," said Hale pleasantly. "Really, I'm quite indebted to you- now I have only three loose ends to tie up, instead of six. I still have to take care of my brothers and the Malfoy boy, of course, but that will not be difficult. Sorry, but I shall have to inform your parents that you've failed to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts exams." He chuckled as he turned to walk away, and for a moment the hissing and clicking was so loud that Rose could hear her own death in those sounds, could hear her flesh being torn and eaten and for a moment, she could smell her own death, the same smell as the rest of the animals who had died in this hollow of spiders.

She crawled over to sit between Albus and Norah, and she grabbed their hands and closed her eyes and waited to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. My mom said that the parentage of Matthias and Marius was unrealistic, but I don't actually care because I needed awkwardly single male wizards. (And I should have used Ludo Bagman, dammit, but I didn't and it's written so yeah)


	17. Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the quartet do their best with what they've got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive thou my terrible sense of humor. Spider solitaire, somebody should just shoot me right now.

Chapter Seventeen: (Scorpius, Norah, Albus, Rose)

 

He could hear the spiders coming after him. Their legs, scuttling over the forest floor. Hale had released him, on Albus's word, but he had known that the spiders would not see that as a deal.

Scorpius risked a quick glance back at the spiders following him. None of them were as big as Ziesog, but all of them were quite large, like wolfhounds or possibly a lion. He kept his eyes open, to watch where he was going, but his mind moved his body through and around the trees for him, leaving him free to formulate a plan of attack. He had the Marauder's Map- a bloody lot of help that would be, in the Forbidden Forest- and he had a little bit of the Peruvian Darkness Powder, which wouldn't help much. The spiders had a very keen sense of smell, he knew.

Spiders. What would get the spiders to leave him alone? How would he stop them from eating his friends?

His mind took the question and ran a great deal of his memories through it. _Spiders. Solitaire. Why on earth would he think of that? Spiders. Bugs. Bug spray. Didn't know a good incantation. Spiders. Squash. Didn't have a big enough shoe. Spiders. Fire. Dead. GOOD._

Scorpius whirled around, brandished his wand, and shouted, " _Incendio_!"

A lash of green fire snaked from his wand and wrapped around the largest acromantula. It let out a horrible clicking squeal and rammed into another spider. The rest of them kept scuttling, so he kept running.

_Spiders. Poison. Same problem as bug spray. Spiders. Knives. Don't know a decent slicing spell. Wait-Albus's spellbook. What was that one spell? Levi- levi- levi-thingummy. Never mind. Spiders. Slow them down._

" _Flipendo! Flipendo! Flipendo_!"

The three largest spiders rolled down the incline he was scrambling up, looking for a vantage point. They hit their fellows and kept rolling down. He was safe here, at the top of the steep hill, for a few moments.

 _How do you kill a spider? How do you kill anything? Poison, strangulation, drowning, fire, stabbing, the Killing Curse._ He had to pull himself away from that line of thought. That was an Unforgivable, and even though he had no doubt that he could perform the spell- he knew the incantation, and if it came down to it he would mean it enough for it to work, he would not- could not- do anything his father, or especially his grandfather, had done in the name of Voldemort.

He climbed the tree closest to him- trees in the Forbidden Forest weren't trimmed, like the trees on the ground. And the branches would get in the way of the larger spiders. He would be relatively safe, and they might even miss him. Spiders had very poor eyesight, and they might not smell him, the way a dog would.

From the top of the tree, he could see, barely, the hollow where the giant spider, old and aching, stood over his little pit full of whatever was producing that rotting meat smell. Some of it wafted up to the tree, and Scorpius spat, to get the taste of it out of his mouth. He could see Hale, talking to Albus, and as he squinted at Norah and Rose, both still immobile, he suddenly noticed that the pale, pearly fangs of Ziesog, brilliant white against the dark of his hairy head, shrank into the spider's jaws and were replaced with flat, dull teeth. At once he knew it was Rose's spellwork- _good, she was up, and not letting any fear of spiders intimidate her_ \- and he immediately had an idea. He didn't need to kill the spiders- not as long as he could prevent them from killing his friends. 

He climbed back down as quickly as he could; a few of the spiders had recovered, and were scuttling back up the hill towards him. He sent more green fire towards them and began running along the ridge, keeping his eyes on the scene below.

 _"I wish I could cast a Patronus."_ His father's once-expressed wish echoed in his mind. Scorpius often remembered seeing his mother cast the spell, a dreamy smile on her face; a silver mouse would scamper from the tip of her wand, and race along to send his father a message, or down to the kitchen where the three shy house-elves worked in silence, to let them know what his father wanted for dinner. His father and grandparents could not cast a Patronus; his experience was limited to his mother's mouse and once, the silvery wolf of Teddy Lupin, cast on some holiday or other.

But he was only eleven, and he was nothing like Harry Potter, the youngest wizard to ever cast a Patronus. Patronuses were for advanced fighters and Aurors and the like. He was just Scorpius Malfoy, son of a Death Eater.

He shook his head, to let the thoughts of Patronuses slip from his mind. He glanced back briefly over his shoulder to look at the spiders, and he sent more green fire after them, curling in whiplashes of flame. Several more of the spiders caught fire.

He looked down at the clearing again, and Hale was talking to Albus about something. _What could they be talking about?_ But he had to remind himself that the more time, the better. 

He had two options. One was to drive off spiders and hope to think of something that could help his friends survive. The other was to run for the castle and find help. If he went for the second, as any sensible person would do, his friends would be dead by the time he returned. If he stayed and tried to cause more damage, he could help, and maybe they would survive for a little longer, especially if he could get back down into the clearing.

If only they had left the map in James's room, or especially if only they had left a note for a teacher. He snorted to himself; that would have been well-worded. _Professor Creevey- we're just going to nip down to the Forbidden Forest to follow Professor Hale, who's been sneaking around like the bastard Death Eater he is, and Rose, who he's kidnapped. If we don't come back, assume we've been killed by giant spiders and inform our parents. Sincerely, Albus, Norah, and Scorpius._

He sent more fire curling back at the spiders pursuing him, but as he turned back to face the front, he could see more spiders blocking his path, cutting him off. He was trapped. He would die, die alone, at the mercy of fangs and pincers and spider venom.

One of the spiders who had caught flame stumbled over the others and sliced itself open on a rock. For a moment that fetid-meat smell filled the air again, and then several of the other spiders began devouring the wounded one. Scorpius grimaced.

And then he pointed his wand at the largest spider and shouted, " _Diffindo_!"

Sharp cuts riddled the spider's body as he flicked his wand; moments later, that spider was buried in a hundred of its kind, mercilessly tearing it to shreds. More of them ignored the carnage and still raced at him. Scorpius didn't allow himself to be disgusted by the cannibalistic instincts of the spiders or the horrible smell that filled the air; rather, he used the Severing Charm on several more spiders and raced around the piles of hungry spiders, feasting on their own flesh. Only a few of them followed him, and he was able to kill those with fire.

That took care of the spiders. Now for his friends.

 

 

Norah felt an involuntary whimper escape her mouth as she clenched Albus's and Rose's hands. She had never thought about dying, and now that it was inevitable she realized that this was a very ugly way to go. Rose had her eyes shut, and Albus pulled them both close to him, his arms protecting them for not much longer, but still providing a barrier. He was like that.

And then, suddenly, the spiders stopped clicking.

There was a revving noise, and the three of them turned and looked past Ziesog at the thing that sat at the edge of the hollow, covered in spider silk, leaves, dirt, and rust- a _lot_ of rust.

And then the headlights shone, incredibly bright after the hazy green semi-darkness of the spider hollow.

" _Mobilius_!" said Rose, pointing her wand at Albus; the two of them sprang to their feet as the spiders began to scuttle forwards.

  Norah got up too; her legs shook beneath her as she kept her back to her friends, raising her wand.

" _Incendio_!" screamed Rose, and blue fire shot from her wand. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

One spider flew backwards and hit the others.

"We have to get to the car!" shouted Albus between spells. " _Incendio_!"

" _Wingardium Leviosa_! That's a _car_?" shrieked Norah.

"It's a Ford Anglia!" said Rose. "My dad and Albus's dad flew it to Hogwarts one year- oh, never mind, we'll tell you about it if we live! Come on! _Incendio_!"

They scrambled towards the car, but spiders blocked their path.

"Norah! Throw the Powder!"

Norah tossed the sack of Peruvian Darkness Powder into the air; Rose split it with a well-aimed Severing Charm and grabbed Albus's and Norah's hands before inky blackness swirled around them. Then they all stumbled forwards, casting spells, holding hands, until they reached something solid and metal and not hairy and warm.

Albus jerked open a door, which flew off its hinges. He swore and pushed Norah, then Rose, into the car before climbing in himself. They sat there, in the ancient car, with cracked glass and a few holes, not big enough for the spiders to get through. The spiders piled onto the car, hundreds of them, thousands of them, and Norah could hear the rusty ceiling creaking. Albus pulled the door in and held it closed.

"Come ON!" Albus roared at the car, and with a sudden start and a sputter, it rolled forwards, ever so slowly.

Rose crawled into the driver's seat and pointed her wand at the ignition, then whispered something that Norah, whether because of the sounds of the spiders around and above them or because of disbelief, didn't quite catch properly. But whatever it was, it worked. The car shuddered to life, and suddenly it zoomed forwards and then, quite sharply, upwards.

They heard, over even the spiders that they shed as they flew above the treeline, a cry of rage from Professor Hale. The Ford Anglia flew over the edge of the hollow, barely landing on the ridge, and then the engine died with a nasty clunking noise. In fact, Norah could feel several things fall from the car to the forest floor.

"Reparo!" shouted Albus, but the car would have none of it.

And then Scorpius was there; he yanked Albus's loose door out and pulled him out of the car. Rose didn't bother with the door; she pointed her wand at the side of the car that faced the spiders and shouted, " _Flipendo_!"

It worked, surprisingly enough. The side of the car, which was rusty metal and broken glass, shot towards the spiders, impaling them. The other spiders began eating the wounded ones; the smell nearly made Norah sick.

"Come on!" shouted Scorpius, his voice hoarse and wild, and they all began running up the hill, away from the spiders.

Norah wasn't usually a good runner, but right now she felt faster, and she didn't trip once. Rose, who had been hit by some of the broken glass from the car, shed blood from a cut on her forehead as she ran, and a few of the spiders followed them very diligently indeed. One of them caught Rose's ankle and sank a pincer into it; Rose screamed and stumbled.

"ROSE!" shouted all three of them; Scorpius reached her first and grabbed her around the middle, tugging her from the spider's grasp. The fang that had punctured her was ripped from the spider; it began leaking venom and blood, and the other spiders crowded around to feast on him. Scorpius, with surprising strength, slung Rose over his shoulder and began running again.

"Cast Severing Charms!" he shouted. "They start eating each other!"

" _Diffindo_!" shouted Norah and Albus in unison; two spiders fell, and they vanished beneath the other spiders. Rose, who was draped backwards over Scorpius's shoulder, didn't have to worry about running, and could occupy her full attention with the spiders. She cast spell after spell. Scorpius kept going, not stopping, not looking back, his face set and determined.

Suddenly, a shower of arrows went past them, and with considerable relief, Norah saw that a group of centaurs had formed a line at the top of the hill. One of them, a pale, masculine fellow with blonde hair and palomino legs, but mostly with an enormous scar on his face, neck, and chest, cantered down the hill towards them. The arrows going past them and into the crowd of acromantulas were avoiding them.

"I am Firenze," said the centaur. "And I need not ask who you are; I see Harry Potter in you." He was looking at Albus.

"He's my dad," said Albus, "and I'm Albus. I'd really love to chat, but the spiders would very much like to eat us and we have to get back to the castle before we can let them."

"They will not bother you for much longer," said Firenze, drawing his own crossbow.

But then a shout reached their ears; Professor Hale, riding on the back of Ziesog, lumbered up the hill towards them. Ziesog, for all his age, was quite nimble. A spell shot with green light narrowly missed Norah, but struck one of the centaurs, who fell where he stood, dead. Firenze grimaced, and aimed his crossbow at Ziesog's face.

The centaur was lightning-quick. One arrow to the eye; another to yet another eye. Ziesog let out a shrieking cry of pain and reared backwards, dumping Professor Hale to the ground. The centaurs, presented with the enormous target of Ziesog's thorax and abdomen, needed no orders. In moments the giant spider didn't resemble so much of a giant spider as it did a giant pincushion. Ziesog's corpse fell backwards, tumbling into the masses of spiders that were still coming; but now most of them began to devour their leader. Norah turned away as the smell, strongest yet, wafted up the hill towards them. The centaurs shot a few of the stray spiders, but after that all of them vanished back down the hill, returning to the hollow to eat what they had found.

"Let me help you," said Firenze to Albus. "It is not custom for humans to ride centaurs, but you are the son of Harry Potter, and you are all very, very young. We owe Harry Potter, anyway, for ridding the world of the war we saw in the skies long before his time. And we owe you, for ridding us of the spider king." He knelt before Albus, who hesitated, then climbed onto his back.

"Firenze! You shame yourself yet again!"

Another centaur came towards them, his face angry. He had dark hair, although he was as pale as Firenze, and he had lines in his face that made him look quite old.

"Bane, you have made your opinions quite clear," said Firenze coldly. "However, it is I who have been elected the chieftain of our people here, and I say that it is acceptable for two of us to take them back to the school. I volunteer myself as one. You, girl," he beckoned to Norah, "climb up here with Albus Potter. And what is your name?"

"Norah Longbottom," said Norah, feeling her timidness return. Albus helped her up behind him.

"Who will take the other younglings?" demanded Firenze. Scorpius still held Rose, swaying on the spot.

A smaller centaur stepped forwards. "I will."

It was a female, realized Norah; she had longer hair, dark and wavy, like the centaur called Bane. She wore a leather strap around her chest and torso, unlike the males, and her waist was thinner. She went to Scorpius and Rose and knelt. Scorpius lowered Rose onto her back, then climbed on after her, keeping her upright. Rose swallowed, and then her eyes fluttered closed and her head lolled back.

"What's wrong with her?" demanded Albus.

"It is the effect of the acromantula venom," said Firenze. "Quickly, Anise. We must hurry." He set off at a gallop, and Norah let out an involuntary yelp as the trees blurred around them. She clutched Albus around the waist, because she was behind him, and she was more likely to fall off.

Albus let out a yell and shouted, "Consider yourself out of debt to my dad, Firenze! This is an _awesome_ ride!"

"Boys," mumbled Norah, "centaurs and broomsticks, all you care about are things that move fast." She glanced over at Anise, Scorpius, and Rose; Rose was still unconscious, and Scorpius would have looked ill if he hadn't been busy holding Rose up.

Suddenly they emerged from the woods, passing an astonished Hagrid, who was watering his garden, and galloped across the flat field towards the main doors. Albus sent a series of red sparks into the air with his wand.

 _They had done it._ They had rescued Rose. Norah almost couldn't believe they had done it.

A jet of red light shot past them; Norah felt the heat of the spell as it passed her, and it ruffled Firenze's long golden hair. He came to a stop, skidding across the field. Anise glanced back at them, but Firenze shouted, "Go! The girl needs the hospital wing!" and she kept running. Firenze turned to face Professor Hale, who was flying towards them like some skeletal bat.

"Potter!" he shouted. "How many times do I have to kill you?"

"A lot, you filthy Death Eater scum!" roared Albus, and he slid off Firenze, who dodged out of the way as Hale swooped over them. Norah, not expecting the movement, fell off the centaur, who aimed his crossbow up at Hale. "Why do you need to kill me, anyway? I don't think it's for the fun of it, or you would have killed us long before now!"

Hagrid was running across the lawn towards them, brandishing a flowery pink umbrella; Norah heard a bang behind her and saw Scorpius leading Professors Mycroft and Creevey, followed closely by Victoire, Dominique, and James, all of whom had wands out and ready. Hale landed on the ground, his wand pointed at Albus.

"Your father killed my master!" he yelled at Albus. "The Dark Lord was kind to me, when so few of the people I knew were! I was an outcast, here at this school! My mother was insane, and I never knew any family but her! The Dark Lord accepted me! And when your father killed him, I was determined! I would do what no other had done before: I would raise the dead, and bring back the man who offered me a family and a home, a good life!"

"You're mental!"shouted Albus.

Professor Hale raised his wand and shouted; Albus dove out of the way, and a green jet of light hit the ground where he had been and left a smoking hole. Norah got to her feet, a little unsteadily; Scorpius must have put a spell on her, to make her run faster and more gracefully, and it was clearly wearing off. She stumbled and placed her hand on Firenze to steady herself; he, startled, fired his crossbow, and the arrow hit Albus in the foot. He stumbled and fell.

"Hale, what are you doing?" cried Professor Mycroft.

"He's a Death Eater!" shouted Scorpius. "He kidnapped Rose and tried to kill us all!"

Hale vanished suddenly, with the pop of Disapparation; _how did he do that? Everyone knows it doesn't work on Hogwarts grounds-_ then, suddenly, Norah felt herself jerked to the side, dragged away from the others. Something sharp pressed into her throat, and she was turned to face everyone, all of them staring at her.

"None of you move or the girl gets it!" shouted Hale. "I will not hesitate to kill her!"

"You ruddy great coward!" roared Hagrid, who had stopped running towards them at Hale's threat. "Hidin' behind the threat of hurting a girl to save yer own hide!"

"Let her GO!" shouted Albus.

"None of you can make me!" said Hale, and Norah, with a spasm of terror, heard a maniacal laughter in his voice. "She will die slowly, and she will beg me for death long before I am finished!" The sharp object pressed a little further into her neck, and she felt a thin, hot pain as it cut.

He dragged her backwards, away from all of them. They were moving towards the greenhouses, thought Norah; the greenhouses. Greenhouses were her specialty.

And they were in greenhouse one. Norah let her eyes dart around, staring at the plants. What could she use?

He stopped to catch his breath, and Norah, closing her eyes and praying that her father really had taught her correctly how to stomp on someone's instep, lifted her foot and brought it down hard. She was surprised to be released almost at once, and she stumbled forwards, towards a familiar bowl that hung from the ceiling of the greenhouse. She made her way around the bowl, being careful not to let any of the tendrils hanging from it touch her.

"Clever girl," said Hale, recovering. His wand was pointed at her. Norah had her wand, of course, but she knew that if she raised it, she would be dead before she could squeak out a spell. "You're very quick to act... which is probably what young Potter sees in you, come to think of it."

"Sees in me?" said Norah. If she could get him stuck on a tangent, it would buy her time. It would buy the others time.

"Of course," said Hale disdainfully. "The son of Harry Potter, being your friend... he likes you a lot, you know, although he was willing to let the Malfoy boy go rather than you, when he negotiated with me in the forest. That was weak of me. I ought to have forced him to tell me the truth. But he likes you... perhaps someday he would have _loved_ you." His voice was mocking. "Love does nobody favors. It always comes back to hurt you, even in the end. I did my best, you know. My mother died, and I raised my brothers with what love I could. But they betrayed me, just as everyone I ever loved betrayed me, except the Dark Lord. Love is useless."

"Love is not useless," said Norah. She was terrified that he would kill her any moment now, but she had to keep talking. "Hadn't you ever met Bellatrix Lestrange? She loved Voldemort." It gave her a terror to say the name, as it did every time. Her parents still referred to Voldemort as "You-Know-Who." Most older people did. But Albus did not, and Rose and Scorpius had begun to follow his lead, and Norah had determined that she would, too.

"And look where that got her," said Hale. "Dead, at the hands of Molly Weasley. It's funny you would bring up Bella, you know... wasn't she the one who drove your paternal grandparents mad?"

Norah, surprised, nodded. So did Hale. "That ward in St. Mungo's," he said reminiscently. "That was where Lockhart met my mother. She had to stay there for a time, you know. She was mad. Almost as mad as Frank and Alice Longbottom. You know, I'd have thought Neville would have named his children for his parents."

"He did," said Norah stoutly. "Frankie's full name is Frances. And my middle name is Alice."

"I suppose so," said Hale. "But I've wasted enough time." He walked towards her. Norah backed away, trying not to look at the bowl hanging from the ceiling while keeping it between him and herself. As he advanced, the tendrils brushed his shoulders.

"Prepare to die," he said, and as Norah looked at him he smiled widely, his lips curling up to show his teeth in an unspeakable grin. "It won't be as painful as I promised your friends. I like to make a clean breast of things."

He raised his wand. Norah closed her eyes.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes again, and Hale stared in fury at the tendrils of Devil's Snare that had frozen his wand arm in the position of raising it. It was pointed straight up at the ceiling of the greenhouse. Now the vines curled around him.

Norah darted around the Devil's Snare and snatched the wand, then backed hurriedly away from the plant.

"Fascinating," breathed Professor Hale. "Truly remarkable. You're not as goose-witted as you come across, you know. All of the clumsiness, and your only talents being in Potions and Herbology. That was extremely clever."

The plant had him completely wrapped by now; Devil's Snare worked fast, as Norah well knew. She said nothing to Hale, but went towards the door, holding both wands.

The door burst open behind her, just as the door at the other end burst open. Professors Mycroft and Creevey came barrelling in, wands raised; Victoire and Hagrid were right behind them. All four of them stopped short at the sight of Norah, holding both wands, and Professor Hale, wrapped in Devil's Snare.

"Well done, Norah," said Professor Creevey, clapping her on the back. "An eleven-year-old girl, fooling a fully-fledged Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Death Eater, is more like," snorted Hagrid. "Albus mentioned all manner o' things 'fore Dominique and James took him up ter the hospital wing wi' young Malfoy. Once he's outta this mess, check his arm and send him straight off ter Azkaban, I say."

Professor Mycroft raised his wand and cast a spell at the Devil's Snare; a burst of heat and light released Hale, but before Hale could even react, Professor Creevey had pointed his wand at him and said calmly, " _Incarcerous_." Black rope bound the man head to toe.

"Take him up to your office, would you, Dennis?" said Professor Mycroft. "Miss Weasley, please escort Miss Longbottom to the hospital wing. Hagrid, see to Firenze and Anise- tell them we are very grateful indeed, offer them anything they might need, and then accompany Professor Creevey and guard Hale. I need to contact Magical Law Enforcement, the Aurors, and the parents of these students."

"Of course," said Professor Creevey. The expression on his face, while not unfriendly- Professor Creevey never got angry- was still unmistakably sober, and he jerked his wand at Hale's bound form. The Death Eater floated up and out of the doorway. Norah met his eyes as he passed; they were full of hate, a furious, insane light that was painful to look at. But Norah made herself look at him, made herself stare unflinchingly until he could no longer see her. She handed Hale's wand to Professor Mycroft.

"Thank you, Miss Longbottom."

Victoire placed one hand on Norah's shoulder and guided her out onto the lawn; following, at a distance, Professor Creevey and Hale.

"Are you all right?" Victoire asked her.

"Yes," said Norah. "How's Rose? Is she all right? And Albus?"

"Fortunately, you got her back quickly," said Victoire. "Madam Pomfrey just had to siphon the venom out with her wand and fix the cut on her forehead. Albus's wound is gone, too. Yours doesn't look too bad, is it hurting much?"

"No," said Norah. "It stung a little at first, but it isn't bad."

They went inside the castle, and James, Dominique, and Scorpius, waiting just inside, jumped up to greet them. "Norah!" said Scorpius. "What happened in there?"

"He had me cornered," said Norah shyly, "but I got out of his arms and managed to trap him into getting caught by some Devil's Snare, and then I took his wand."

"Hospital wing," Victoire reminded them briskly, and they began walking.

"Seriously, that is really impressive," said Dominique. "I bet your family will be really proud of you."

Norah smiled a little bit and looked down at her shoes.

They entered the hospital wing; Rose and Albus, lying next to each other in identical beds, both sat up when she came in and chorused, "Norah!"

"I'm fine," said Norah. "Really, I am."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over and made her sit on the bed next to Rose, then healed the knife cut. "This is quite ridiculous," she murmured. "I thought I had seen the last of teachers gone mad after the Battle of Hogwarts."

"He was a Death Eater before he was a teacher," murmured Albus.

"Wait, tell us about that," ordered James.

And Albus did. Even Madam Pomfrey didn't make Victoire, Dominique, James, and Scorpius leave; she was busy listening herself. He didn't mention the dreams and visions, noticed Norah, but he did talk about Marius's letter and the Dark Mark, and the nifflers, and Rose getting kidnapped, and the spider hollow.

"And then Firenze and Anise gave us a ride back, after the centaurs killed all the spiders," said Albus, "and what you lot saw on the lawn and in the greenhouse with Norah was everything else."

"Quite a story," said a voice, and Norah, looking at the door, saw a whole crowd of people there, first and foremost her father, who had spoken. She sprang to her feet and ran for him, and he opened his arms and hugged her, so tightly that Norah knew, really knew, and was surprised to discover that she had known all along, that her father loved her just as much as he did Frankie, and that there was not favoritism in their treatment at all. Her father was here. She was safe.

 

"Dad!" said Albus delightedly, as after Professor Longbottom, Frankie, and Norah's mum came his own parents and Lily, and then Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, and Hugo.  

Ginny hugged him, almost painfully tightly. "We came at once," she said. "Professor Mycroft sent us a Patronus. Oh, Al..."

He could see Rose, wrapped in Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's arms; Aunt Hermione was crying, and looked very pale. And then, off to the side, standing with Scorpius just as awkwardly as he stood there, was Draco Malfoy. But Astoria Malfoy was not awkward; she wove through the suddenly crowded infirmary to Albus's bed and stood waiting.

Albus looked up at her.

She sat on the side of his bed. "Thank you," she said. Now that he was seeing her in person, and not at an awkward angle from the ceiling of her bedroom, she was very pretty. She looked older than his mum, though he knew that she was two or three years younger. "You saved my son's life."

"And put it in danger," added Scorpius joining his mother. Albus noticed that when they stood close by, he slipped his hand into his mother's as naturally as he spoke. "But I saved you, too."

"Did you really?" said Ginny. "Thank you, Scorpius."

Her voice was gentle, and Albus watched as her eyes met Astoria Malfoy's. He knew, at that moment, that even if their dads didn't like each other, their mums did.

Draco joined them. He said nothing, but his eyes were wet, and one of his hands was on Scorpius's shoulder.

"I am extremely proud of you," Harry said to Albus quietly, when the Malfoys had turned to talk to each other. "You couldn't possibly have written me with that important information- and we'd just rounded up the dragon breeders the other night, and persuaded them to give us the name of their man in charge."

"It's Hale," said Albus. "He mentioned he had them there to distract you from Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "He was very clever. If you weren't so brilliant and honorable and good-" He smiled at Albus. "-he might even have succeeded."

"We sent Matthias and Marius to number twelve, Grimmauld Place," said Albus in a soft voice. "You can probably question them, if you want."

"You sent them?" said Harry, startled.

"We shared our suspicions with Matthias, that Professor Hale was a Death Eater," said Albus, "and he told Marius to keep a lookout- Marius saw the Dark Mark on his arm, and wrote Matthias. They weren't safe, so I told Matthias to have Marius go to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, with Teddy and Andromeda Tonks. That was good, right?"

Harry nodded. "They couldn't have been safer if they'd been at the Burrow. I can talk to them later."

"You have to tell them who their fathers were," said Albus. He was beginning to feel very sleepy- he suspected that Rose or Scorpius had mentioned to Madam Pomfrey the lack of sleep he had been getting, and that she had slipped him a sleeping potion of some kind. "Matthias's dad... Hale told me, it's Lockhart."

"Lockhart?"

"Yeah. An'..." Albus trailed off as his eyelids drooped. "An' Marius's dad, he's... Mundungus Fletcher."

"Dung," said Harry. There was something quiet in his voice that Albus didn't quite understand, some carefully suppressed emotion. "I'll tell them. You need to rest now, Al."

"Okay," mumbled Albus. The room was going dark and hazy, but he heard his father's words as he drifted off to a sleep sans dreams:

"I am so very, very proud of you, Albus Severus Potter."

 

Rose woke up to angry shouts outside the infirmary. She blinked heavily and glanced around the room; Albus slept soundly next to her, with Lily and James curled at the edge of the bed. Harry and Ginny sat on a bed opposite with her mum and dad. Hugo snored at the foot of her bed. Norah was on her other side, and her parents were chatting with the other parents. Scorpius lay on a bed at the end of the row, and his parents sat near him on the floor, not speaking. Victoire and Dominique were sleeping in abandoned beds on Norah's far side.

The door to the infirmary burst open, and Professor Mycroft skidded in. "He's gone!" he shouted.

Ron, Uncle Harry, and Professor Longbottom leapt to their feet and ran out the door.

"What do you mean, he's gone?" demanded Hermione, standing and walking over to Professor Mycroft. Rose recognized her mother's expression; it did not forebode gentility with the headmaster.

"I went in to check in on Creevey and Hagrid, and Hagrid was tending to Creevey, who was unconscious. The ropes were severed. Hale's gone!"

Rose sat up. "Gone?" she exclaimed.

Everyone looked back at her, then at Professor Mycroft. He nodded. "The window was broken, but it's twenty feet up, he wouldn't..."

"I think he would," said Harry, walking back into the room past Mycroft. "From what Albus tells me, he's done some Dark magic- probably makes him invulnerable to illness and pains, rather like Voldemort." Rose watched all the adults flinch. "And he'll be desperate to look out for his brothers, now that they know what he is. I suggest that we publish the details of Hale's identity in tomorrow's _Daily Prophet_ , as then he will have no motivation to murder those who know."

"His identity as a Death Eater?" said Mycroft nervously. "Well..."

"It's safer this way," said Ron, walking in. "If everyone knows, he can't very well murder everyone." He smiled at Rose quickly, then continued, "And this way, everyone knows who to look out for. This way, it will be the opposite of what happened last time: the Ministry isn't going to lean on the _Prophet_ , not with Kingsley in charge."

"And include that he's Regulus Black's son," said Rose.

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to look at her.

"What?" said Harry.

"He is," said Rose. "Albus will tell you, when he wakes up. We have proof. Sort of. We heard him say it."

"Regulus's-" started Harry. Then he shook his head in amazement. "Well, what do you know. Who was the mother?"

"Her name was Elaine Hale," said Rose. "She died after she had Marius. She was a Muggle."

"Even more surprising," said Harry, "as Regulus, right up until he died, was a Death Eater. A fling with a Muggle girl would have been frowned upon."

"Well, he did die and leave her pregnant and alone," pointed out Hermione. "That's plenty bad right there."

Suddenly someone cleared his throat; Draco Malfoy stood up, and walked into the center of the room. His eyes, noticed Rose, the same grey as Scorpius's, had a terror in them that she sort of understood, remembering stories about Voldemort. He rolled up his left sleeve in silence.

The Dark Mark stood out blackly from the skin, the skull and snake burnt into his flesh. "It's darker," he said curtly. "When nobody has pressed their Mark in a long time, it gradually fades into the color of your skin, or a paler shade if your skin is darker. When someone touches their Mark with their wand, or with the intention to summon other Death Eaters or the Dark Lord himself, it burns black. I have not touched my Mark- I leave it covered most of the time. It has burned periodically since October, November, December. Hale has his mark, as you saw when you examined him, Mycroft, and it was as dark as mine."

"If I had known he was a Death Eater-" began Professor Mycroft.

"-you never would have hired him," said Ginny. "We understand that. But there will have to be a greater level of vigilance when professors are hired."

Her voice was firm. Rose knew that Aunt Ginny was tough, because she never cried in front of Albus, and she had six older brothers. But her suggestion, though she didn't work for the Aurors or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was as strongly worded and firm as if she were the Minister of Magic. And the looks on Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's faces told everyone in the room that they agreed.

"I believe your term as headmaster was meant to be a temporary one, however," said Hermione suddenly.

There was a pause, and then Mycroft cleared his throat. "Headmaster Doge passed on in August," he said, not looking at any of them but still keeping his head up. "I was set to replace Professor Andrews as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor myself, but to minimize the changing of positions, I was asked to step in as headmaster for the year."

"We should probably not discuss this in front of the kids," murmured Harry. "Shall we step outside, Professor? Thank you."

When Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron had left the hospital wing, Rose clambered out of bed, testing her weight on her bandaged ankle before stepping on it, and hobbled over to the door to eavesdrop. She had listened for barely a second before Victoire grabbed her and put her back down on her cot. Rose had expected as much, but she had also heard what she had been listening for.

"You're the Weasley girl," said a soft voice. Astoria Malfoy sat down on the end of her cot. Rose looked up at her. She had a pretty, elegant face- but soft, somehow. She didn't strike Rose as snobby, although she was well-dressed, better dressed than her own mother or Ginny or Norah's mum. She seemed gentle. Motherly.

"Yes," said Rose. "It's just Rose. And you're Scorpius's mum."

Astoria nodded, offering her hand to shake. Rose accepted it.

"He wrote us about his friends, you see," she said softly. Rose doubted that any of the others could hear what she was saying, she spoke so quietly. "I'm glad we had the opportunity to meet you all, even if it was under less fortunate circumstances."

"Knowing the four of us, it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better," said Rose wryly. "We manage to find trouble whatever it is we're doing."

"Do you?" said Astoria. "Not misbehavior, I hope."

"Not much," said Rose truthfully. "I mean, we're like any other kids. But we're different. Trouble finds us."

Scorpius's mother smiled. "I imagine it does. All of you have rather distinguished parents. Except for me, I'm nobody."

"You aren't nobody," said Rose. "You're Scorpius's mum."

She smiled again. "I'm pleased to meet you, Rose. Thank you for being friends with Scorpius. It means a lot to us."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."

 Astoria returned to her husband and son. Scorpius had watched their encounter; when neither of his parents were looking, Rose sent him the thumbs up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, it's Draco and Story. Remember them? (I just ship them so hard okay)


	18. Necromancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get wrapped up rather nicely.

Chapter Eighteen: Necromancy (Rose)

 

The Easter holidays ended, and the students returned to Hogwarts. Rose could walk properly by the time the holidays ended, and while she knew none of them would ever forget their experience in the Forest, it was on a lot of people's minds, not in the least her family's minds. They made her promise to write every three days until the end of the year. Rose promised, thinking of Scorpius- his parents had wanted to pull him out for the rest of the year, but Scorpius had insisted on staying.

And so had Uncle Harry. People looked oddly at them, seeing Harry Potter walking through the halls with Albus or James, visiting with Professor Creevey or Professor Longbottom. Rose knew that Harry was due to present his being-an-Auror career spiel for the N.E.W.T. students at some point, but she was very surprised, on their first day back, to walk into her Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and see Harry up in the front, teaching. She sat down with Norah, ignoring her roommates (who had been whispering unpleasantly about her since everyone had gotten back) and taking out her quill and parchment for notes.

Harry quieted them all by writing on the board, and Rose began to flush as she read what he was writing:

 

Practical Magic to Study Over The Summer:

Stunning Spells

Disarming Spells

Impediment Jinx

Reducto Curse

 

He turned and looked at them, then said, after clearing his throat briefly, "As you probably all know, my name is Harry Potter."

There were a few giggles, but mostly everyone was quiet. Rose could feel Claire's eyes boring into her back, but did not turn or even move.

"The reason I'm here is partially classified, and partially common knowledge," said Harry. His eyes swept the room before settling on Rose and Norah, and then he glanced around the room again. "Over Easter vacation, a few students remained behind, including my sons James and Albus. Some of these students discovered that Professor Hale, who has been teaching you this year, and quite well, I might add, was in fact a Death Eater, or a follower of Voldemort, for those of you who aren't familiar with the term. Nobody knew, least of all the Auror Office or the Ministry of Magic."

There was a long silence, and then Harry said, "Rose."

Rose looked up.

"Come up here, please."

Rose got to her feet and went to stand by Harry. Norah smiled at her and gave her the thumbs-up; Caden Montgomery and a few of his friends grinned as well. Claire's eyes were narrowed into suspicious slits.

"Rose was unfortunate enough as to discover this information first-hand," said Harry. Rose almost winced- she hadn't wanted the story made public. "Professor Hale suspected that Rose knew more about his illicit Death Eater activity than he would have liked, and he bewitched and kidnapped her. He was quite prepared to kill her. Through a series of events that really is nothing less than a miracle, she survived, and three of her friends came to her rescue. Professor Hale was captured, but then escaped." He paused, and the silence was palpable. Rose kept her face smooth as she waited.

"I personally had a rather disrupted Hogwarts career in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was very behind until my third year, when I learned a great deal about Dark creatures. After that, I had a very good education in spells for about a year, and then, after that, teachers weren't much help. I had to practice on my own. I had to teach myself. I had two good friends who helped me, of course, but I had to learn it on my own."

He paused again.

"If it weren't for the fact that Albus, Rose, Norah, and Scorpius know quite a few spells between them, and how to use them effectively, the four of them would be dead right now. There's no way to blunt the idea of what could have happened. There was no luck involved. They were talented and they were able to work together. I ask that all of you study these spells." He indicated the ones he had written on the board. "Study them as your exams end. Study them over the summer- but without using magic, of course. Study them next year. I didn't learn a Disarming Spell until my second year, and the rest of these I didn't learn until my fourth year. If I had known them earlier, I think I might have been able to used them more effectively when I needed them. What happened to my son, my niece, and their friends could happen to any of you. If you are prepared, then you won't need to be afraid."

He nodded to Rose, and Rose, after a pause, returned to her seat. She could feel her cheeks burning.

"Don't ask too many questions," said Harry to the class at large. "I will explain to you the unclassified version of what happened at dinner tonight. I am also going to serve as your substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts professor until such time as a new one can be found. It will only be about a month and a half or so, I think." He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together. "All right. Would anyone like to volunteer to help me show the class what the Disarming Spell does?"

After class, Rose and Norah walked outside. They were instantly peppered with questions, despite Harry's warning, but they had already been told not to answer questions, and they kept their mouths shut, smiling and shaking their heads. Norah went off to her common room, and Rose went to Transfiguration, sitting down with Albus. 

"Did you know your dad is substituting for Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the rest of the year?" she muttered, as Professor Creevey began showing them the days work of Transfiguring a button into a beetle.

Albus nodded. "He mentioned it at breakfast. I think he wants to stay on guard for if Hale shows up again."

Hale had escaped; it was unsure how, although Hagrid had pursued him, and Professor Creevey was sporting a black eye and a puffy lip. Rose guessed that the details of how Hale had escaped would remain classified, just like the fact that there was a nest of acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. She knew that her mum had sent a request to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to "investigate the activities of acromantulas in Hogwarts forest, as those activities may impede with the ability of the students to live in a safe and nurturing environment," which was Ministry jargon for "kill the bloody spiders, they're dangerous and why they weren't stomped out years ago, we have no idea, and it's your fault."

"That makes sense," said Rose. "He talked about what happened, mostly so that the kids in our year won't ask questions."

"Yeah, that's not really working out so well," said Albus darkly. "Quincey and Kendrick keep bugging me about it. Phil and Alaric haven't said much, but I know that both of them would like to hear the story."

"Well, Uncle Harry said he's going to talk about it at dinner tonight," said Rose. "I'd like to hear that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," said Albus. "I sort of want to see the looks on everyone's faces."

"Did James get annoyed that we borrowed the map and some of his Peruvian Darkness Powder?"

"Not at all," said Albus. "Like everyone else, he's just glad we're alive. I don't think it'll be the same for the next time I nick something of his, though." Rose snorted, and they turned to their lessons.

That evening at dinner, Harry stood up from where he sat, not at the staff table, but at the Gryffindor table, with Albus, Rose, Norah, and Scorpius, and explained to the entire listening school what Hale was and how he had been captured. He did not talk about the spiders or about Hale's escape, which Rose had expected.

After that, nobody asked them questions. They just had people staring at them and whispering in the hallways.

"-that's Rose Weasley, she got kidnapped by Hale-

"-and Norah Longbottom, did you hear she tricked him into getting stuck in some Devil's Snare?"

"-Malfoy kid, stuck up worse than ever-"

That was from Bruna Goyle, who murmured it to her lackeys one day on the way to her Charms class. Rose, who had just been leaving, Albus at her side, sent a whispered jinx at the older girl and hurried away; moments later, Bruna's front teeth began to grow at an astonishing rate.

"Didn't someone use that spell on your mum?" asked Albus.

"Draco Malfoy," said Rose, "and seeing how his son is one of my best friends, I thought I had better hex the next best person."

The month of April seemed to slide by, as did May. Rose began studying in earnest now, and it was much easier than she had anticipated, because she had been studying everything since March and she knew it properly. Even Herbology was presenting much less of a challenge than usual; she volunteered an answer one day in class and was delighted to discover that she was right. 

And then exams began, on the last day of May. Rose was incredibly nervous right up until she began taking the tests, and then she discovered that she knew everything on them. She flew through the books, marking things and writing furiously, double-checking her answers and adding extra information. Even History of Magic, which was boring to listen to but still important to know, was a fun exam. 

She tried to discuss the tests with Albus, Norah, and Scorpius afterward, but all of them told her, "Don't, Rose, we just took them once, we don't want to take them again." They spent a lazy day being done out by the lake, and then they got their test results back, with the O.W.L. grades marked in parenthesis by the percentages.

Albus grabbed her test results, handing her his, and announced to Norah and Scorpius, "She got two hundred and three percent on her Charms exam. It's like she didn't even have to learn the material. I don't even understand this."

Rose blushed fiercely and snatched hers back. "You scored higher than me in Transfiguration," she pointed out.

"Yeah, by one percent, and that was because I included some extra credit work in the essay portion," said Albus.

"Extra credit work?" said Rose, raising one eyebrow.

Albus took a deep breath, then held up his hand. He held his wand up and screwed up his face in concentration.

Rose, Norah, and Scorpius gasped in unison as Albus's hand rippled slightly, then turned brown. The fingers melded together, and widened into a dark, round, flat surface. A fuzzy brown growth trickled up his arm. When it stopped, the edge of Albus's hand was a hoof.

"Merlin's beard," said Scorpius, "you've been _working_ on that, haven't you?"

Albus grinned shyly. "I nicked a book from the library," he said, ducking his head a little. "I was there on an early-morning walk, and I was doing some extra credit, and I found some familiar names in the flyleaf. It's the same book that Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs used when they became Animagi."

Rose's mouth fell open. "So you've been working on becoming an Animagi?" she breathed.

Albus nodded.

"I want to learn," said Rose. "Can we see the book?"

Albus nodded again. "I'll go get it. Be back in a mo."

He trotted off, leaving the rest of them by the lake. Rose sighed and leaned back against the tree next to Norah. Scorpius lay on his stomach, almost dozing off, gazing at the lake.

"What'd you get in Herbology, Rose?" he asked sleepily.

Rose glanced down at her paper, following the lines down, of all O's, when she reached Herbology. She stared at it for a second.

"Ninety-six percent," said Norah, reading over her shoulder. "Wow, Rose, that's great!"

"That's an O," said Scorpius. "See, I told you you could do it." He dodged Rose's smack. "What did you get in Potions, Nore?"

"A hundred and seventy-nine," said Norah shyly.

"As we all knew you would," said Scorpius, yawning. "Well, I have no complaints with my grades, because I've passed my classes and done quite well at it, to be honest."

"What did you get in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" demanded Rose.

"An O." Scorpius smirked at her scowl. "Okay, I got a hundred and forty-seven percent."

"You both scored higher than me," said Rose.

"Well, you doubled our Charms scores, so don't feel too badly about it." Scorpius yawned again. "I could take a nap."

"I'll turn your hair brown while you're sleeping," said Rose.

"As talented as you clearly are, Rose, Color-Change Charms aren't taught until fifth year."

"Most people don't attempt to become Animagi until they're thirty or forty," retorted Rose.

"True."

"Albus is taking an awfully long time," said Norah.

The three of them glanced back towards the castle. There was no sign of Albus.

They got to their feet and began walking. Scorpius took the lead, Norah in the center, and Rose covered the back. All three of them drew their wands.

They passed through the courtyard, glancing around at a few groups of people. "Not anywhere nearby," noted Scorpius in an undertone.

"My first guess would be the dungeons," said Rose, "because the only people I know who would be okay with beating Albus up would be Bruna Goyle and company."

Scorpius opened the door of the great hall and ran into Harry. He fell over backwards, hitting Norah, who hit Rose, and all of them tumbled to the ground.

"Well, hello," said Harry, looking mildly amused. "Where are you all off to in such a hurry?"

"We were sitting outside with Albus, he went to get a book and he hasn't come back yet," said Scorpius, "and knowing the four of us, foul play is probably involved."

Harry chuckled, but helped Scorpius up and sobered at the expression on Rose's face. "Well, have you checked the common room yet?" he asked.

"We're not Gryffindors," said Rose impatiently, "so we can't."

"Hmmm." A peculiar expression crossed Harry's face. "How would you know that he isn't there, then?"

"He wanted to show us the book," said Norah, "and Albus would have come straight back. It's not like him to delay."

Harry nodded. "You're right. Where do you think he might have gone?"

"Dungeons," said Scorpius, "but not willingly."

There was a pause, as Harry surveyed Scorpius. "He did mention that you have some enemies," he said, "when he wrote. I believe you. Let's go."

They went into the Great Hall. Harry murmured something, and a silvery stag shot from his wand and split into three. Two of them cantered upstairs, and the other remained where it was.

"In case he passes by here and we missed him," explained Harry, as they went into the dungeons. "The others went to the Gryffindor common room, to check with James, and to the office of Dennis Creevey."

Harry led this time, and Scorpius moved to the back, after Rose. Rose was glad of it. The dungeons didn't scare her unduly, but she preferred to have someone at her back in Slytherin territory.

They crept through the halls silently, occasionally passing a ghost. Peeves swept past them with a slightly malevolent stare; one of his favorite targets was Norah, but as Harry was with them, he dared not antagonize her.

They turned around a hall and heard a few voices. Harry held his left hand up in a sign to stop, and then he rapped himself on the head with his wand. Gradually, he vanished, from top to bottom. Suddenly she felt a rap on her head, and coldness trickled down her back. A gasp from Norah and a stiffening of Scorpius's spine told Rose that they, too, had experienced the rap and the trickling.

"Disillusionment Charm," said Harry softly. "Sorry, ought to have warned you, it's rather cold. Come on."

They tiptoed down the hall to an open door, from whence issued the voices.

"How did you get in here?" demanded the voice of Albus.

"I, my dear boy, have my ways," said a soft, threatening voice. Rose stifled a scream. It was Hale.

Harry didn't hesitate, but walked right into the open room. Norah, Rose, and Scorpius followed him.

Hale stood at the far end of the room. Albus, tied up, stood in the middle. Bruna Goyle and a few cronies stood off to the side, grinning and muttering to themselves in excitement.

Rose glanced down at herself; she was almost completely invisible, and the dim lighting of the dungeons didn't clarify her form.

"You see," continued Hale, "I was able to escape with a simple spell. I didn't have my wand, but I was able to obtain Creevey's, with a little bit of work. I think you know the incantation, Potter- after all, a certain uncle of mine was able to do it."

And then Hale's form buckled, and he shrank only a little, into the form of a giant wolfhound, dark grey, with sharp teeth and claws. One of the desks fell over. But then he was Hale again.

"After that I was able to return and steal my wand, with a simple matter of walking in. They hadn't raised the school's protections against me yet, you see." He laughed coldly.

"Why do you do this?" demanded Albus. "What's worth it to you, about killing me, about killing Rose or Norah or Scorpius or my dad or anybody at all? The war's over. You've lost."

His words were defiant, and Rose was proud of him. Albus was tenacious. He would never give up.

"I don't think a young boy like you would understand my motives," said Hale silkily. "You see, you have the advantage of having parents whom you know and love. I do not."

"My father didn't," said Albus. "Try me."

"I've been looking for replacements," said Hale lazily. "My mother had her little romances, but I was looking for a teacher, a mentor, if you will. I was looking for a father. And then it occurred to me that I was looking for someone who was gone, someone I had had once but who had fallen." He laughed. "I think, because Harry Potter killed my father, it is appropriate that I kill his son. And then I can continue on with my work- the work of raising up the dead, the work of bringing back Voldemort."

He raised his wand. Rose gasped.

" _IMMOBILUS_!"

Harry's shout was a roar in the quiet room; everything in it froze. Rose felt her own self freeze, caught by the spell. She watched as Harry reappeared, tapping his head with the wand again, and appearing from top to bottom.

"Thank you for the confession, Hale," said Harry quietly. "I had the presence of mind to record your monologue. After nearly eighteen years in the business of Aurors, you wouldn't believe how many people, believing themselves victorious, reveal more than they ought to." He strode over to Albus, with long, firm steps, and with a few deft wand strokes, Albus was free and able to move.

" _Mobilius_ ," added Harry, pointing his wand in the general direction of Rose, Norah, and Scorpius. Rose relaxed. " _Expecto Patronum_. _Incarcerous_. _Illusiory_."

A stag burst from the tip of Harry's wand once more, splitting countlessly as it ran. Ropes burst into place around Bruna Goyle, her lackeys, and Hale. Rose felt a feeling like hot liquid trickling down her back, and found that she was visible.

"It was quite stupid of you to threaten my son," said Harry.

Something filled the room, even besides the tension. Rose could almost feel the anger pouring from Harry. Hale, frozen in place, couldn't remove his eyes from Harry, but Rose could see the fear in his eyes.

 "I have no authority to punish you further for what you have done," said Harry quietly. "I suggest, however, that you plead yourself guilty at the hearings, because if you don't..." He trailed off. "Well, I won't do anything. I'm not like that. But I know that Albus has a great many relatives who love him to death and wish him well, and I can't make promises for others. especially not my wife."

Footsteps bounded along the corridors, and Professor Mycroft burst in, followed by Professors Creevey, Lympsham, Brocklehurst, Longbottom, Peakes, and Hagrid. After them came Madam Pomfrey and then Filch, a broom raised over his head and dripping dust and spiders onto his long hair. And after him came Ron and Hermione, with wands out and furious faces, and finally Ginny came in, and she passed everyone else who was still assessing the situation, and Rose, seeing the look on her face, grinned in anticipation. Ginny raised her wand before anyone could say anything, and suddenly a series of slimy, flaky, green-and yellow things burst from Hale's nostrils and began beating him around the head with what appeared to be wings.

She cast the same spell on Bruna Goyle and her friends before anyone could stop her, and she stood there, her wand clenched in her hand and her hair messy and wild, and said calmly, "It's funny how therapeutic that spell is."

"As talented as you are at it, my dear, I think that we had better leave it to the Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Squads that are on their way at this moment," said Harry gently.

Ginny glared at him. "Did you just call me ' _my dear_?'"

Albus let out a giggle, which he quickly suppressed.

"I'll do the dishes for a whole week," said Harry. "And I'll let the bat bogeys slide."

"Not on my students, you won't," said Professor Lympsham, stepping forward. Her voice was honeyed sweet, and Harry, looking at her, frowned suddenly. "Those Students are in my House, and therefore I ought to be in charge of their punishment."

Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Professor-"

"Lympsham," supplied Professor Creevey.

 "Professor Lympsham. Your students, such as it were, have been found guilty of assisting a known Death Eater in the torture and possible murder of a fellow classmate. They aren't old enough to go to Azkaban, but I believe that there is a juvenile detention center for young witches and wizards in Ireland. It's run by a good friend of mine, Seamus Finnegan. Perhaps you know him?"

Professor Lympsham's face turned a slightly blotchy pink. "I am generally acquainted with him, yes."

"Then that is likely where these students will go for the summer. There is, however, the matter of how permissive you must have been of their behavior, for them to think it morally acceptable under any circumstances to allow another student to fall into danger at the hands of a Death Eater." Harry's voice was mild, but the look on Ginny's face was not, and Rose was very glad that she was not Professor Lympsham.

"Rose, Al, Norah, Scorpius, why don't the four of you head up to the library?" said Hermione briskly. "We'll be along as soon as Hale is out of our hands. Go on, now."

The four of them left the room, closing the door behind them, but Scorpius stopped them, reached in his pocket, and handed out four Extendable Ears.

"Where'd you get these?" demanded Albus.

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," said Scorpius, as they fixed the bits of string into their ears and sent the Ears under the door. They went around the corner and stopped, sitting and listening. "Where do you think? And are you all right, by the way?"

"I'm not too bad off," said Albus. "But here, I got the book. They ambushed me right as I was about to come outside." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, leather-covered book.

Rose examined the book, and the charmed ink drawings of James Potter, then passed it to Norah as she listened through the Extendable Ear.

"-cannot believe that you would allow students to mindlessly bully others," snapped Ginny's voice. "Albus has written home about all the things people do to Scorpius Malfoy, and while I sympathize with you if you are not friends with Draco Malfoy, I hardly think that allowing other students to bully his son is the right thing to do."

"Scorpius complained maybe once or twice to me, and the injuries were minor," said Professor Lympsham, her voice clipped.

"That's because you didn't listen to him," said Professor Longbottom quietly. "After the first few times, when Bruna and her friends weren't penalized for their actions, he stopped going to you and began going directly to Madam Pomfrey. Poppy, do you by any chance know the extent of Scorpius Malfoy's injuries this year?"

"His nose has been broken about ten times, his jaw three times. He's had more bruises than I care to count, repeatedly cracked ribs, a cracked skull once, strained wrist and collar bones, a sprained ankle, and cuts and scrapes from head to toe," said Madam Pomfrey. "Not even Neville has that beaten, and he's the most accident-prone person I know."

"You've made your point," said Professor Lympsham brusquely. "I'll penalize them for what they do wrong."

"Wrong based on your personal moral code, Scarlett, or based on the rules of the institution?" said Professor Creevey comfortably. "I think that you resenting Draco Malfoy for dumping your friend Pansy is certainly a very loyal attribute of a friend, but not something that you should take out on his son twenty years later."

Rose gasped. Scorpius looked stunned. They all stared at him as Professor Creevey continued to speak.

"You never married, did you, Scarlett? I know Pansy didn't- she's writing the gossip column for the _Daily Prophet_. You'd think someone wealthy, like the Malfoy family, would make it into the gossip column every now and then. But there's no mention of them, ever. It's a bit odd. I've never had to go there on business, but I have a friend in Magical Law Enforcement- who will remain anonymous if you don't mind, Harry, Ron, Hermione- who mentioned to me the other day that she lives alone, at home. Gained a lot of weight. Has about fifteen cats, by the smell."

 "How dare you," snarled Scarlett. "She loved him, and he left her for that high-society bitch-"

"Let's speak like adults, please," said Hermione sharply. "The past is the past, Professor. You can't change that. Meanwhile, we have some other, rather more pressing issues, to worry about. Harry, you mentioned a confession in your Patronus."

There was a stillness, and then Harry said, "Listen for yourselves."

The voice of Professor Hale, strangely tinny, floated through the air. " _I've been looking for replacements... my mother had her little romances, but I was looking for a teacher, a mentor, if you will. I was looking for a father. And then it occurred to me that I was looking for someone who was gone, someone I had had once but who had fallen... I think, because Harry Potter killed my father, it is appropriate that I kill his son. And then I can continue on with my work- the work of raising up the dead, the work of bringing back Voldemort_..." 

There was a pause.

"Necromancy?" said Hermione quietly.

"That's what he said."

"But necromancy is impossible. The closest thing is the creation of Inferi," said Ron.

Rose shuddered.

"But I think he was getting rather close," said Harry. "In my spare time, I've been looking at Hale's journal. I've dealt with enchanted journals before, so I knew what to expect. I was able to get through to his recordings. The journal confirms Albus's testimony of Hale's parentage and the parentage of Matthias and Marius Hale. We've sent them to a safe house for the time being. It also confirms what Hale just mentioned, that he was trying to create a sort of serum, that when sprinkled on a dead person, would bring them back to life. The remains of Voldemort were burnt. He wouldn't have a body to come back to. I think we'll leave the rest of the questioning to be done in Azkaban."

There were murmurs of assent, and Scorpius grabbed all of their strings and tugged hard. The Ears came soaring back around the corner to them, just as the door opened. The four of them ran down the hallway and got upstairs well before any of the adults emerged from the dungeons.

None of them spoke or stopped running until they reached the little classroom where they had been doing a lot of studying and where Matthias had found them before Easter. It was almost automatic, the way they moved together, with Albus in the lead and Scorpius bringing up the rear, with Rose and Norah in the middle. Each of them knew where to go, as they sat down on the floor in the little classroom. Scorpius closed the door behind them before sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees on the floor under the chalkboard. Rose sat on a desk, her legs crossed; Norah lay on her stomach on the ground, and Albus paced, his hands clenched behind his back, holding something that was nothing, but also that was something.

"Necromancy," said Albus finally.

"The niffler blood was probably to find any little essences of Voldemort," said Scorpius tonelessly. "The venom was probably some kind of control agent. Hale's not really looking for a father figure. He want someone he can control and blame for what goes wrong. It doesn't work with Marius and Matthias because he's watched them grow up. He knows that he can't blame them for his pathetic, miserable existence."

Norah shuddered, and Rose felt the same way. But she knew that Scorpius was not really thinking about the necromancy, or even about Professor Hale.

She swung her legs off the desk first and went to sit in front of Scorpius. He looked at her without looking at her, without seeing her.

"You didn't know," she said gently.

"I ought to have," said Scorpius, and he wiped roughly at his eyes with the back of his sleeves. "She called my mum that name." He sniffed. Rose remembered that no matter how smart Scorpius and herself were, they were still only eleven.

 "I met your mum," said Rose, "and she is definitely not a bitch." She forced the ugly word to come out of her mouth. She knew it wasn't the worst word, not like saying Mudblood, but it was still unbelievably ugly. "Professor Lympsham isn't one, either, although she acts it pretty well."

"Dad mentioned Pansy Parkinson a few times," said Albus thoughtfully. "Always said she was a horrible, spiteful person. And she writes for the Daily Prophet, in the gossip column? Nobody reads it. If she'd ended up being your mum, then you might have turned out like Bruna Goyle, and your dad wouldn't even be half as good as he is now."

Scorpius looked up at Albus, and then at Norah, who smiled encouragingly at him, and then at Rose. 

"They don't make names for us," said Rose softly. "Names don't mean anything. Your dad used to call my mum Mudblood all the time, and look at us."

His grey eyes still shone with tears, but they were not the hurt sort of tears anymore. They were tears of something else.

"You know what I could do with?" said Norah suddenly. "A cup of tea. With sugar and lemon. I bet Noddy will help us make some." She stood up.

Rose nodded and got up as well. She held her hand out to Scorpius, and he took it and she helped him up, but she didn't let go of his hand. Instead, she took Albus's hand, and he took Norah's, and they walked like that, hand in hand, all the way down to the kitchens.


	19. The Ending of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they all go home for the summer. YAY ENDINGS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short, which is fine. I hope you've enjoyed your experience in my weird little universe!

Chapter Nineteen: The Ending of the Beginning (Albus)

 

Albus ran his hand through his hair and smiled around at the faces in the compartment with him. His father was there, although he had been quiet. Fred and James had been the life of the party, crowded in the corner; Victoire, Dominique, Roxanne, Frankie, Meghan Finnegan, and Lin Wood were sequestered in the next compartment, but Rory Finnegan sat with them, chatting semi-comfortably with Matthias Hale, who had returned to school the day after Maximilian Hale's imprisonment in Azkaban. He had taken his tests and passed quite well for someone who had missed the last few weeks of lessons before the exams. With him, tucked under his arm and not quite sure what to do with himself, was Marius Hale. His hair was dark brown, as compared to his two elder brothers, who had pale brown and medium brown hair; it was also rather shaggy, for a boy of nine, and it hung in his face over the sharp blue-grey Hale eyes. Albus had found he rather liked Marius, after all; where Matthias was sometimes tactless, Marius was polite. He was shy and even unsure of himself, as compared to Matthias's impeccable good opinion of himself.

And of course, there was also Rose, Norah, and Scorpius. He sat with them, just smiling, not saying much, because they were all laughing at Fred and James- but it was a comfortable silence. He knew these three people almost as well as he knew his own family.

They had changed into their Muggle clothes for the trip home; Rose, instead of her plaid skirts and sweater vests, wore a blouse with a belt cinched around her skinny middle, jeans, and her favorite boots. Albus had been satisfied to see her housemates walk past the compartment, their jaws dropping, as they saw that Rose was not only capable of dressing fashionably, but of dressing far more fashionably than they were. Norah had shed her robes and was wearing old jeans with brownish stains on the knees and at the hems; Albus knew that these were her gardening jeans, and that she was looking forward to working on her little herb garden for her Potions kit. Scorpius wore what he usually wore, his black pants, socks, and shoes, cleaned within an inch of their lives, his white, long-sleeved shirt, and the traditional green sweater vest and green-and-silver-striped tie. He had made a concession to the heat of early June and rolled his sleeves up. Albus himself wore shorts and a T-shirt- it was hot, and he was ready to be home.

The train whistled as the height of the buildings around them began to increase. London, like most cities, was taller as you approached the middle. Albus held his wand for a moment, then sighed and handed it to his dad, who smiled and tucked it into his own trunk. James did the same. Harry always kept their wands over the summer- he had told them about his own near-expulsion for too much underage magic, even though most of it wasn't his fault, and had ordered James to surrender his own wand at the beginning of last summer. James had gotten his wand back the day Albus went to Diagon Alley to buy his.

 He had not told his father about how he had practiced turning his hand into a stag's hoof. He could do it with both hands now. It was very complex- he had to study his own anatomy as well as that of a stag, to understand how his stomach would shift, how the bones would shift, how the skin and muscle would meld properly, so that he didn't become a crippled stag. What would be the point of that? He didn't want to tell his father- becoming an Animagus was something that would not be quite right to tell his father, because Grandad James had been an Animagus, and Albus was trying to become an Animagus, and during the time of life when they were working on becoming Animagi, Harry had been more concerned with the return of Lord Voldemort, and with surviving, and with dealing with the Wizarding world as something new. Grandad James and Albus had both grown up in Wizarding homes; Harry had not. Of course, Albus knew that he would tell his father eventually- but now was not the time. His father had his own secrets, though very few, and Albus had learned this year how to have his. You couldn't have people available for you all the time.

The whistle grew louder- he could already hear the bustle of King's Cross. The train began to slow. For a brief moment Albus wished it could run on and on- back to Hogwarts- but then he remembered that his mum would be outside with Lily, and they would all go back to the Burrow and have sandwiches and tea, as they always did on the last day of school.

And tomorrow, thought Albus, he was going back to Hogwarts for the memorial service, so it wasn't like he was never coming back. The Battle of Hogwarts had taken place on May second, but the service was celebrated on June second, because it was the day after the last day of school.

The train came to a halt, and the steam whooshed out, obscuring everyone outside in a thick cloud of fog, but it vanished quickly. Albus grabbed Archie's cage and his trunk and dragged them outside.

He emerged from the train and saw a large crowd of people, people he knew and loved, people who were familiar. Mum and Lily; all of the Weasley clan not on the train; Norah's parents; a few of the Hogwarts professors, including Professor Creevey, Professor Brocklehurst, and Hagrid; the Ministry officials he knew, like Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Sturgis Podmore; some of his parent's friends and people he recognized from Christmas cards and the names in Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix; and other people, who he didn't know or only knew vaguely, but who stood in the crowd, peering at the train, and as he reached the middle of the group he saw, with a sudden astonishment, that they were all clapping, smiling, cheering, calling his name. And then some of them began to shout Rose, and some called out to Norah, and a hand rested on his shoulder and everyone fell silent because Harry Potter was there, even if they had all seen him so often that the novelty had worn off.

"What is this?" Albus asked his father, bewildered.

"You're a hero," said his father simply. "You've alerted the world to Hale and the revival of the Death Eaters."

 "Me? No, I just- Rose and Norah and Scorpius- not _me_ ," protested Albus.

His father smiled. "You don't choose to be a hero. It's something that happens because of what you do. And there are so many unsung heroes- all of these people in this crowd, for instance, and those who aren't here but should be, the people we're going to remember tomorrow and always. The trick of it is," and he bent down so that only Albus could hear him, "is that if you feel like you deserve it, you aren't a hero anymore."

His father let go of him, straightened up, and led James over to Mum and Lily. The crowd was breaking up, though most of them smiled at him, waved, came over and shook his hand, before they Disapparated or went through the barrier.

He turned and found Rose, Norah, and Scorpius standing there, smiling at him.

"You really are a hero," said Rose.

Albus shook his head. "You guys were the brave ones," he said. "Rose- you were so brave, in the forest, and Norah, you captured Hale, and Scorpius, you figured out how to kill the spiders the best way and you saved all of our lives."

All three of them shook their heads then, and Rose said, "We wouldn't have known what to do if you hadn't warned us."

"Al, it's time to go," said his father from behind him.

"Just a second, Dad," said Albus automatically. He grinned at Rose, faithful friend and cousin, and said, "We don't need to write, because if I want to tell you something I can just walk to your house, or have Mum take me by Side-Along or in the car. But have a good summer, anyway."

She hugged him. "Love you, Al."

"Love you too, Rose."

Rose said good-bye to Scorpius while he hugged Norah, and told her, "Write us, we want to know how you're doing. You might be able to come and stay for a week, especially if we can get Scorpius to come, too."

"You were so kind to me," she said, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes, shy, sweet Norah, "and I'm so glad you were, because the three of you are the best friends I could possibly ask for, and you were all so kind."

Albus, a little embarrassed, hugged her again and moved on to Scorpius.

Draco and Astoria were standing a little ways away, holding hands. Scorpius glanced back at them, then stuck out his hand.

"Come off it," said Albus, and he hugged Scorpius, too, but very briefly, because Scorpius as a rule did not like physical contact.

"Guess what," said the taller boy. "I've figured out how to get Bruna and company to leave me alone."

"You have? That's brilliant," said Albus, "really it is. How?"

"I have to join the Quidditch team next year," said Scorpius calmly.

Albus blinked.

"Look, Lympsham will have to penalize them for beating me up if I'm on the team. She wants Slytherin to win, because it's her house. So if I get onto the Quidditch team, then I'm safe. Makes sense, right?"

"Perfect sense," said Albus slowly. "But I'm going to try out for the Gryffindor team- Melanie's a seventh-year, so she won't be back."

Scorpius nodded. "I knew you would," he said. "You'll do great as Seeker. But I'm going to try out for Keeper. Belinda Brennan's a seventh-year, too. I'd rather not compete with you directly, to be honest." He smiled wryly.

Albus grinned back. "That would be somewhat awkward, seeing how we're best friends and everything."

Scorpius nodded.

"Write us," said Albus. "I'm going to try and get my parents to let you and Norah come over for a week this summer. You have to work on your parents."

"That might be difficult," said Scorpius, "but it's not impossible. I'll see you next year, if not."

Albus grinned. "See you next year."

He walked away from Scorpius, towards his family.

"Albus?"

"Yeah, Scorpius?"

There was a pause.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

And even though it would be three months before he really returned to Hogwarts, he just knew that he would have a fantastic summer, what with all the letters he was planning to write and receive, and all the pranks he had planned with James, Fred, Hugo, and Louis, and all of the things he could do, even without magic, with his family and friends. It was going to be a lovely summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are welcome!


End file.
